Okay! Let's get the ball rolling. Now that July is here and I'm free of my nephews for a whole week, I can finally work without them constantly looking over my shoulder and shooting either water guns at me or those nerf guns.
Man, I cannot believe I've already seen another birthday. Time just seems to go by too quickly. Anyway, on with the story!
DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN ANYTHING OR ANYONE IN THE SPYRO UNIVERSE. ONLY MY OCS.
Chapter 44: Broken Arrow
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The slow steady ticking of the grand clock in the Audience Chamber was the only sound. In the Royalis Castle, home of the Syllian Royal Family, there were few people present. James and Lysa, naturally, in their places on the thrones. To James' left was his son, Bertram, and his mate Flaire. On Lysa's right was their daughter, Magothera, and her mate Ignitus. Beside them were Spyro and Cynder looking on with mixed expressions. All their eyes were fixed on this lone dragoness in the chamber with them, a stranger, and yet, more well known than most other Dracocorps females.
Or rather, ex-Dracocorps.
Elisari the Scarlet Flame, once one of the best aerobatic fliers in the Dracocorps 7th Elite Flying Wing, a dragoness whose power and determination and unwavering loyalty to her comrades had earned her the nickname 'Mother' among the younger members of her group. She was a dragoness whose mating to a Light Dragon had both shot her through the ranks to executive commander...
...and his betrayal had seen her fall just as fast, if not faster, than her rise.
She had been dismissed from the Dracocorps without a second thought, her six month old hatchling, Silverus' son, barely able to fend for himself. She became the polar opposite of her original behavior. Where she had been kind, she was now cruel. Where she was lenient, she was demanding, a perfectionist. Where she had been maternal and warm, she was now cold and callous.
She had never said a kind word to her son after Silverus' betrayal. Nor had she done anything to protect him from the scorn, the hatred, the rumors. Quite the opposite, she had done eveything she could to distance herself from Silverus' 'legacy'. When beating the hatchling hadn't produced the desired effect, she simply abandoned him in their old lair. The lair that still stank of Silverus' scent.
Caldor had never once sought her out after that. Perhaps once or twice she had caught a glimpse of him. Never more than that.
Despite the talk and the insinuations of the others, she had never once thought of killing him while he was a hatchling. No. Despite everything that had happened, she knew she still had a son.
And now, that son was trapped behind enemy lines, evidentally protecting the daughter of the very dragons who had brought about Silverus' downfall, arrest, and subsequent execution.
She could have hardly believed that the summons to appear before the Royal Family true until she had heard it from the King's own lips.
She stood there, legs trembling, unsure, worried. In the back of her mind so many things had raced through her head. She began to think, unwillingly, of Caldor. The attempt she had made to convince others that Caldor was not Silverus' child. Yet, time after time she was confronted by the fact that at times, the entire settlement could hear them going at it at night. They recalled how she had trumpeted her pregnancy throughout the hills and how she all but drooled over Silverus.
She could never bring herself to tell the truth. The simple fact was that no one wanted to hear it.
She gazed up at James de Launces, once Archduke, now King, of Syllia. He was King. He was her King, and Lyseerah was her Queen. If anyone would possibly listen to her now, perhaps, just perhaps, they would.
Before she could begin, or even for that matter before James could speak as to why he summoned her, a messenger came running in pale and exhausted, waving a single sheet of paper back and forth wildly. He presented it to James who skimmed through the contents of it. Elisari saw James pale slightly and his eyes go wide as he rose and turned to his youngest son.
"Bertram. Ready your squadron for an intercept mission immediately! The Launces Resistance reports that an enemy long-range attack using these new 'rockets' is inbound. Thanks to Caldor and Zafra they managed to destroy most of the weapons but still enough made it airborne to do considerable damage to the city if they reach us. You have permission to use the jets and call upon any fighter group you believe would be of help to you." James then turned to the messenger who had hadn't yet dismissed.
"Get to the air raid siren in the castle and turn it on."
The young man saluted and ran past the throne and up a staircase marked 'Air Raid Central Alert'. Bertram meanwhile ran by her and left the castle to ready his force. Once the noise had died down, James turned his attention back to her and motioned to her that she could speak. Elisari felt her previous nervousness return.
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The air raid sirens were now blaring loudly throughout the city. Bertram, knowing it foolish and very dangerous to fly when an air raid was issued, drove through the vacated central avenue on his runner. To his left and right he could see people pulling blast shutters, metal plates that were pulled down over windows and doors to prevent shrapnel from bombs from destroying the store or home nearest, grabbing their children or helping the elderly to the nearest air raid shelters, or aiding those having trouble with the blast shutters shut and secure them before heading to the shelters themselves. He had to slam on the brakes once when a group of civilians ran across the street, heedless of the traffic lights.
Thankfully for the rest of the trip, there were no further delays. Once he reached the airfield, the base commander's aide approached him.
"Major, what's with the alert?"
"Rotarian special weapons based in Launces have been deployed. The Resistance in the area managed to destroy most but not all of them. They appear to be land-based versions of those rockets that destroyed some of Peninsula City last week. As per orders from the King, the 1st Air Wing is to scramble immediately. I'll brief them but I need the jets fueled and ready. We'll head out to intercept but in case any make it past us, we need a CAP over the city." The aide nodded and ran to the tower while Bertram went to the barracks.
Much to Bertram's delight, he found his entire wing already geared up and ready. Dieter, recently approved for the Syllian rank of Major and made Bertram's new XO, came forward.
"What the situation?"
"Rotarian weapons stationed in Launces have been launched against the city. According to the Resistance, they appear to be land-based versions of the rockets the Gigantic used against Peninsula City. We are to use the jets to go up and try to intercept the incoming weapons." Dieter nodded.
"I heard of this when we were in Rotiart. Mechanos asked the population to endure a slight raise in taxes to pay for a new type of weapon platform that, if successful, would eliminate the need for bombers to fly over hostile airspace. There were two varients back then. V1 was the original which was little more than a flying bomb. A rocket pushed the bomb up into the air and it glided to the target, dived, and detonated upon impact. The second, the V2, was more dangerous. It was twice the size of the V1 and was what they called a 'true rocket' It was fitted with either a 1,200 pound warhead or a 1 Ton warhead, it has a guidance system of some sort, and a large motor with enough fuel to get it up into the air. If you want anything more detailed than that, you'll need to capture or find a rocket scientist." Bertram nodded and then looked to the others.
"Alright, you heard him. These things are basically flying bombs. If you have to engage, do so at a distance. Dieter, any idea how fast they are?"
"The V1s are roughly as fast as our jets but the V2s were still in testing last I heard. From what I heard though, they can fly higher than jets and are three-times faster. To intercept the V2, you need to see the contrail of the rocket and try to lead it." Bertram gave him a flat look.
"See the contrail? At night?" Dieter shrugged.
"The purpose of the V2 was to be unstoppable and deal catastrophic damage to the enemy. Just one of those smaller rockets brought down a skyscraper. Granted it was the only one in Peninsula City but what about here, in the capital? The castle itself is skyscraper sized, how many other skyscrapers are in the outlying districts?" Bertram paled.
"Almost two dozen; and if any of them go, civilian casualties will be enormous." Wolff scratched his chin for a moment, and then looked up.
"What about the Dracocorps? Could they assist? Maybe they could bring them down at low altitude?" Bertram shook his head.
" I don't like exposing the Dracocorps to that level of danger but, sadly, we have no choice in the matter. I'll put a call in to the Garrison Commander at Drakesfort. The most effective would be lightning, ice, light, and electric dragons. Maybe even storm or wind dragons." Dieter nodded.
"Indeed. They are built possibly to prevent small bouts of turbulance but perhaps they can be brought down with similar conditions that can bring down an aircraft..." Bertram looked to Dieter.
"Are you talking about having the dragons create a storm?" Dieter shook his head.
"No. Not that small anyway. There is a rare weather system that occurs in Rotiart every once in a while. Syllia has hurricanes that come up from the south, Callinar and the Blue Isles have typhoons that come from everywhere all at once. Rotiart has superstorms that make the strongest hurricane you have on record look like a midsummer breeze. I'll be damned if I know what causes them but once upon a time a tribal mystic from some far off forsaken corner of the world said the energies of the land were severely off balance. Maybe it is or maybe we just have a piss-poor sense of where to have a nation, either way, the RAAF is trained to be able to fly in such weather, should the need arise." Bertram sighed.
"So...we create a superstorm to bring them down without having to burn fuel trying to chase and lead them...what if the storm fails? Creating that big a phenomenon takes a lot of mana and will not dispel itself for some time."
"If that happens, Bertram, take your wing and intercept the lower flying V1s. I'll take Wolff and the others and try to fly through the storm to the V2s." Bertram remained silent but motioned for the others to get their aircraft ready. He then walked up to Dieter, his voice barely above a whisper.
"You know that we don't know how Rotarian planes are built. How will we know if our Syllian aircraft won't simply break apart once you get into the storm?" Dieter smiled a crooked smile and walked past him to the door.
"We don't. But you let me worry about that little part, eh?"
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Moments later Bertram sat in the cockpit of his J33; his breath hammering as he awaited news from Drakesfort as well as awaiting the word to launch. In all, 47 jets sat idling on the runway. Naturally not all of them were from his wing exclusively. The Royalis Rapid Aerial Guard (RAG for short) was the second full fighter wing equipped with the new jets that, though still rare and difficult to produce fuel for, were becoming more and more prevalent. More astonishingly, in lue of working J33s, Dieter and his group had been reissued their old Rotarian jets, repainted in Syllian colors, and modified by James de Launces personally to compensate for the aircraft's shortcomings.
Bertram didn't get the full list but apparently the basics were all there. Replacing the Rotarian engine with a more powerful Syllian engine. Removal of the heavy rotary 30mm cannon which freed up space for two additional 20mm cannons. The wood construction, after being disassembled to allow for inspection by the OSS and the RAF Flight Engineering Corps, was sanded down to allow for more practical defences. The Rotarian jet, now deemed the J34-R5, withstood Syllian scrutiny with a special aluminum/ titanium armor covering the wood body. The lightweight aluminum protected the wings, nose, and tail but titanium plates shielded the pilot, engine, and fuel tank from direct hits.
It would not be as maneuverable as the solid wood jets, but at least the jets no longer had a tendency to turn into flying pyres should the tanks catch fire or 'brew up' as the pilots who saw them said. Syllian aircraft followed a principle that James de Launces himself was famous for saying:
'It should be able to damage enemy assets and out perform anything the enemy sends after it, but if it doesn't get the pilot home alive then the entire design is worthless. Pilot survivability is the foremost requirement for anything I place my seal on. Everything else is secondary.'
As Bertram checked his gauges and made sure nothing was malfunctioning, his radio came alive.
"Attention. Hawk Eye to Paladin, have detected multiple inbound foes closing fast at medium to high altitudes. Looks like those weapons you told us about."
"What about Drakesfort? Have they any fliers who can help?"
"That is affermative. Sky Lord Zakwel has just ordered every dragon or dragoness with the elements and abilities you specified to take off immediately. Currently, we have thirteen storm dragons starting to build up clouds for a real bastard of a maelstrom. We also have six lightning dragons, three electric dragons, seven wind dragons, and three ice dragons. Unfortunately the only light dragon we have nearby is the dragoness Aurora and she's on maternity leave and grounded."
"Understood. Just hearing those numbers gives me hope. Do we have the green light to launch?"
The last was directed at the tower and, in answer, the lights near the runway flashed red twice, orange once, then lit solid green. Bertram keyed his mike for squadron comms.
"All fighters, full power!" The aircraft started roaring down the runway when the radio buzzed again. At that moment the base commander came on the radio.
"1st Air Wing and Royalis Air Guard, scramble! Scramble! Once in the air, proceed to area outside of city and hold until we assertain the effectiveness of the storm."
"Paladin copies. Hawk Eye, what's the enemy's distance?" Bertram pulled back on the stick and the J33 angled upwards into the darkening sky.
"They are...holy...fifty miles out and closing fast! If you go full power as soon as you take off you'll meet them over Battery Hill. Note, the AAA at the Hill have been ordered to assist. They'll be focusing on some of the lower flying ordnance leaving you fellows clear for higher altitude attacks."
"Thanks for the heads up. Alright, any word on that storm?"
"They're starting it now. Once you reach the engagement zone the storm should be going full blast. Watch out for turbulence." Bertram signed off and angled his aircraft in the indicated direction.
"All aircraft form up on me. Time to go stormchasing."
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Maelstrom hovered in the air, surrounded by his storm dragon kin. The pale moonlight reflecting off his grey and white tinged black scales, a symbol of his age and experience. He always felt at ease when he was molding clouds. The nimbus, sirrus, stratus, all of them were like clay in his claws, metal under the blacksmith's hammer. He always enjoyed human music. The thunder of the percussion, the roar of the brass, the whipping of the woodwinds. Like a human composer in an music hall, this was his arena. He was by far the oldest and largest of the storm dragons serving in the Dracocorps, some would say he was their Elder, their Conductor, and the others around him were his musicians.
Like a great maestro directing a symphony, he began to direct his fellow storm dragons. First, the loose clouds would have to be pushed together. At the wave of a forefoot, three dragons started swirling around a mass of clouds, the air currents pushing the clouds towards one another. Next, the clouds had to be seeded for the rain. To that end, he motioned for three more storm dragons and one of the ice dragons to start scattering snow and mana into the clouds.
It was with immense satisfaction that Maelstrom saw the clouds turn from a milky or 'virgin' white to a dark grey and then to solid black. For a moment he worried that perhaps the storm dragons he sent to seed the clouds had overdone it but he quickly dismissed the thought. Time was of the essence, there was no need for precise calculations. So what if the wind blew a 'little' harder or the rain fell in greater volumes? THIS was the greatest undertaking he and his kindred had ever been charged with and by the Ancestors he was going to make it a storm for the century!
He motioned for the wind dragons and the reminder of the storm dragons to start moving the winds and pulling more clouds into the newly born eye of the storm. All around him the clouds whipped and spiraled around while he was in the middle of the eye. The sky directly above him was clear, he could see the beautiful blues and blacks of the night sky dotted with stars and other astral bodies. Ever the romantic, he wondered what the storm would look like from far above, past the sky where the air was thin and flying next to impossible.
A final wave brought in the lightning and electric dragons who soared on opposite air currents, the lightning dragons created a 'positive' charge at high altitude while the electric dragons created 'negative' charges at low altitude. He gazed upwards at the clouds swirling and a large smile split his muzzle.
This would be the defining moment that showed all of Syllia that storm dragons were more than just simple weather workers who brought in a rogue storm once in a while to prevent droughts or clear bad weather to give rescue teams a chance to find someone who had been lost. The first anyone had heard of storm dragons was sadly, a bad incident, Rayxor, a young storm dragon intent on bringing his species into the light whether they wished it or not, signed on with the Dracocorps as an electric dragon.
He was under Silverus' command and was the dragon who had attempted to kill Thera and Ignitus the night before Ignitus was set to dual Silverus.
It had brought the storm dragons into the light but not as Rayxor had intended.
Maelstrom, saddened to see his race reviled because of one bad drake, tried his hardest to make people see that storm dragons were no more evil than their brethren. For the most part, he had succeeded. A few rains during the hot summer months, some snow during the winter holidays, a few calm clear days, perhaps some overcast. It was not uncommon for storm dragons to be employed not just by the Dracocorps but also as weather and climate tenders around large farms. The arrangement was beneficial to all, the storm dragons were given enough space to start a family, given food and permission to hunt if they so desired, all for ensuring that the large farms had almost perfect weather year round to produce the highest yields.
The storm was at its strongest now, all it needed was a 'storm-breaker' bolt to connect the positive and negative charges and set it off. Maelstrom opened his maw, built up energy, and fired a pitch black bolt of lightning directly into the cloud bank. The black bolt caught the positive and negative charges, forming more lightning, and exploded in a brilliant flash of light and near deafening thunder. He immediately felt condensation on his scales, closed his eyes and smiled as the wind blew the rain into the eye of the storm where he was. After a moment, he noticed Zakwel coming towards him, muzzle split with a grin.
"Maelstrom! That was very well done! So, what's the current windspeed?" Maelstrom went wide-eyed for a moment and coughed nervously.
"I... uh, I thought time was of the essense so I told the others to measure it as best they could themselves..." Zakwel stared at the elder with a flat expression.
"You mean to tell me we could have a full-blown tempest heading for Royalis?" Maelstrom looked at the clouds and sighed.
"It's a possibility...judging by the way the wind is blowing...I'd estimate windspeed at just over one-hundred five miles per hour... and getting stronger..." Zakwel looked at the storm and saw the dragons flying into the eye with them, various expressions of horror and shock on their faces as they raced to escape the wing-breaking winds.
"Well, as the late Jonathan Havvers would have said: 'We've screwed the pooch this time...'." Maelstrom coughed nervously and gazed at the clouds.
"It should die down in a few hours or so, long before Royalis is in any danger. Besides, wasn't the plan to create so much turbulance that the weapons either collided midair or crashed?" Zakwel nodded slowly.
"Let's just hope that's all that happens..."
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Bertram soared through the sky, closing the distance to the intercept zone. Except for the occasional flash of lightning, there was no other source of light in the sky. Even the moon was covered by huge storm clouds. He gazed around to locate the landing lights of his other aircraft (something they had decided to do to locate each other in the night) and heard the radio come on.
"Paladin, come in! This is Battery Hill! We are unable to send up any fire!" Bertram, unaware of the strength of the storm they wee headed towards, keyed the radio with an irritated edge.
"Why the hell not?! We need all the help we can get to stop those weapons and protect Royalis!" The reply was glum.
"We can't man the guns! The winds down here are so strong they're knocking even the heaviest of us off our feet! We've already had to bring three to the base doctor for injuries from being picked up and blown into something! I don't know what those dragons were thinking, but the CO is about ready to raise hell!" Bertram, suddenly curious keyed the radio.
"Battery Hill...what's the wind speed of the storm?"
"Wish I knew Major. The weathervane went flying a few minutes ago. Last windspeed indicated was...one-hundred plus." Bertram paled.
"You mean to tell me the wind is gusting at over one-hundred miles per hour?!"
"That's affermative...oh boy...now the XO is mad, he was in the latrine when the wind broke it free and took him for a ride...phew! What a stink." Bertram frowned as the radio cut off. He switched to squadron radio and informed them about what he learned. To say they were stunned was an understatement.
"Major, how the hell are we going to do our jobs now? These aircraft are built like flying tanks but I doubt they can handle winds like that."
"I second that, I hate to say it but we should return to base. Regulations forbid flying in severe weather for a reason."
The second transmission was from one of the RAG fighters flying with them. Bertram sighed, confirming his worst fear. The RAG was a Home Guard Squadron, not to be deployed in combat unless the city they were assigned to was under attack. Furthermore, they were unlike regular combat pilots in that they only trained in pristine weather. They never had to scramble in the middle of a snowstorm, or launch off a pitching, heaving carrier deck, or take off of a windswept and rain battered runway.
To put it bluntly, and in Reyson Havvers' own words, they were nuggets, rookies, plain and simple. Bertram keyed his radio.
"If you RAG boys want to turn tail and head home then so be it. However, if the storm disperses and the incoming threat hasn't been eliminated, you'll have, maybe, a fifteen second window to intercept them before they impact their target. Remember, I've seen one of them take out a skyscraper and according to the reports, these weapons are bigger than the ones encountered over Peninsula City. What would happen if one of those things impacted the Castle? Or for that matter, the Royal Army HQ, or the Airfield? How many of the people you swore to protect are you going to sacrifice to play it safe?"
There was no reply, but none of the lights from the RAG force with him deviated, dove, or turned around. As Bertram turned back around to scan the skies, he saw a flash of lightning that illuminated the clouds ahead of him and he saw them, faint shapes cutting through the clouds at high speed.
"Enemy flying bombs spotted, all fighters, engage!"
No sooner had he said that then the front of the storm, with all the wind, rain, thunder and lightning, and even hail, hit them. The turbulence was bad enough that Bertram was sure that, if he hadn't been restrained in his seat, would have thrown him through the bulletproof canopy covering the cockpit. He heard a fair amount of explicitives, profanities, and other colorful choice phrases as the others fought to control their aircraft. Suddenly, there was a burst of static as a pilot from the RAG came on, voice frantic.
"This is Eagle Four! I've lost power to the starboard engine! Shit! Water got sucked into the intake and shut it down, I've got a flame out!" Bertram wasted no time in replying.
"Eagle Four, this is Paladin, can you restart it?"
"Negative! Hail has busted some of the intake fan blades and warped what remained! I can't restart!"
"Copy that. Eagle Four, drop to five hundred feet and return to base. Once you return, inform Command of the situation and have them launch all additional aircraft, including gunships. We'll need as many multi-engine aircraft as we can get."
"Eagle Four copies. RTB."
More lightning arced across the sky. Bertram eyed a formation of clouds curiously, watching it seem to begin to swirl around.
"Battery Hill, I have a strange cloud formation just north of your position. Can anyone get eyes on it?"
"We've got more than eyes on it, we've radioed ahead to Wolfwood. They're about to have a tempest in the teacup. Or, more precisely, a tornado." Bertram watched as, just as they had predicted, the cloud and winds dropped lower and began to form the start of a tornado. Further away, he saw the layout of a small town and hoped that the people down there had already taken cover.
The town of Wolfwood, located on the main road that ran from Royalis to Launces, was generally thought of as a wonderful place to visit. Founded between the Grey Forest and Teacup Lake, the town earned a reputation for being a sportsman's haven. Bertram glanced about, hoping for a sign of something, anything, that would show the location of the V1s and V2s.
His hope was answered in a rather...explosive fashion.
Midway near the tornado, a large explosion set of six more smaller explosions. Gazing closer using his abilities, he whooped in joy and keyed the radio.
"Those storm dragons may have overdone it a bit, but it's working! I'm seeing multiple V1s and even a few V2s swirling around in there, they're detonating at random though so keep your distance! Intercept what's left and then wait for the storm to die down some." Suddenly the radio came to life, a panic-stricken voice coming through.
"Alert! Alert! Hawk Eye to Paladin, be on your guard! We've detected something else moving... correction several spots, not moving as fast the the rockets but faster than a dragon... it... it can't be... they've got to be nuts! Rotarian fighters incoming! Looks like they sent a wave to safeguard their rockets! They're flying through the storm!"
Through the radio, he heard Dieter curse.
"We don't have time to deal with fighters as well. Paladin, I'll take my group and intercept the remaining V1s. We'll have the RAG boys climb above the clouds and look for any high altitude weapons, and the rest of the wing can engage the enemy fighters." Bertram, despite the feeling that the wing shouldn't seperate, saw the logic in the stratagy, in this way, even though their forces was divided, they could cover all their bases.
"Copy that. Black Knight, take your fighters and get after those rockets. RAG, climb above the clouds, that should get you boys out of the storm and into some clear skies. The wind up there is fierce, but not as dangerous as down here. Everyone else, set intercept course, we're going hunting!"
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Major Clarence Reese, the second in command of the 666th Elite Fighter Wing, snarled as the winds buffeted his jet yet again. He silently made a memo that once Syllia was firmly under Rotarian control was to ensure that those blasted storm dragons were made extinct. As he adjusted his heading, another jet came into view and he scowled.
"Kiln! Get your ass back in formation before I reprimand you again! I don't know what the hell Marks was thinking, letting you back into the cockpit of a fighter after disobeying orders at Launces!"
"Get off my ass Reese! Besides, wasn't this your idea to fly through the storm to ensure the remaining weapons got to Royalis intact? As for me flying again, Marks needed every experienced pilot he could get after that bastard de Launces gunned down Horos. Frankly I dodn't know the bastard could be so cold." Reese's snarl deepened as the insubordinate pilot succeeded, yet again, at grating on his last nerve.
"What do you expect? You shot down his best friend, remember? Hell, even the Emperor himself is starting to doubt Marks' sanity when he requested that you be released from the brig and returned to active flight status. As for de Launces, a wounded beast is the most dangerous type of beast."
"Keep your zen bullshit to yourself. The only reason you aren't leading your own squadron is because of your anger issues. Besides, next time I face de Launces, he won't be so lucky. Gah! Thrice damn this wind to the Abyss!" Reese chuckled wickedly, then smiled even wider when another Lieutenant, Reese's Group XO, spoke up with a mocking tone.
"What's the matter Kiln? You don't like the wind? Is it too strong for you? Remember, the reed that does not bend with the wind will surely break."
"Shut your ass Killey! And that goes for those two monks too!"
Lieutenant Bart Killey, once part of a monestary somewhere in the Ashcroft Mountains, he was excommunicated and cast out of the temple for both assaulting two fellow monks, his teachers, and destroying sacred relics. He bore a mark called the 'Heretic's Brand' (ironically the Blue Isles kanji symbol for 'traitor') over his face. Since then, he had given himself wholeheartedly to enjoying the vices that he had been denied while at the temple. He imbibed in strong drink regularly and, Horos not withstanding, had been the most likely of the wing to get into a drunken brawl. He bedded down with women almost every night of the week. He also took a perverse pleasure in twisting the scriptures he had studied while in the monestary to suit his own purpose.
He was not above quoting scripture (or twisting it) to get what he wanted. In this sense, Marks had thought him perfect for the wing. As Wolff had been Dieter Muntz's 'Flying Priest', Killey, though the exact polar opposite of Wolff, was also the 'Flying Priest' of Marks Wing.
Although people leaned never to call him a priest to his face unless they wanted to experience the sharp end of that stilleto dagger he kept at his side at all times. Not even Marks dared cross that line...
Reese gazed through the storm and saw contrails arcing through the skies and keyed his radio.
"Kiln, looks like you'll get your chance at revenge sooner than you'd think. We've got company."
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Bertram gazed through the clouds, his dragon sight easily piercing the darkness. He caught the tell-tale flame of exhaust that jets gave off and spotted the enemy formation. Focusing on the lead aircraft, he was a marking that made his blood run cold.
"Paladin to all aircraft, we up against the 666th."
As one, the rest of his wing uttered the same thing.
"Oh hell."
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Whew, alright, looks like things are livening up a bit, huh? So, members of the 666th against the 1st Air Wing. This is going to be round 2 between Bertram and Kiln. What'll happen? Well, you just gotta wait for the next update! Ha!
Next Chapter: Stormhawks.