Free Bound by Chris Michaels, Reema Farra

him.
    “We sh-shouldn’t have! I’m only twelve years old.”
    “And I’m ten. That’s never stopped us before.”
    “Yeah, but I didn’t have to use m-m-majick any of those times. It’s against the law in Ilsa . . . r-really really against the law.”
    T was right, of course. According to the Academy it was “ the fools’ arts for the stupid, lazy and weak.” Jason heard plenty of horror stories about Ilsan nobles dabbling in majick. Once his dad even made him go watch a trial in Glass Waters where a noble daughter was sentenced to life in Talvek prison for using majick. Turned in by her own sister. Her whole family disgraced.
    Even though T was an important foreigner from a nation that still allowed majick, they would never let him teach or even use Majick in Ilsa. Jason and T would be in deep trouble if someone saw them. Luckily, no one was around.
    “It’s only against the law if we get caught,” Jason’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “And if we do, I’ll take the heat. They can’t really do anything to me. My father won’t let them.”
    T stepped up to the gate lock and hesitated.
    Jason put his hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Blood Brothers, remember. I’ve got your back.”
    T didn’t look at Jason – didn’t even nod – but at those words his fingers started the Treatus dance.
    Jason watched closely. He had only seen T do majick a handful of times. Years ago he filled the girls’ cabin with fog that stunk of rotten eggs, and only a few years ago they enchanted the Dean’s chair to shrink as soon as he touched it. Of course, those were just pranks.
    Last year a new magician had made it to T’s kingdom. Over the summer his new tutor taught T how to use majick, not just to make sparkly lights or Animates, but real majick.
    Majick they now used.
    “Anyone can use majick, right?” Jason whispered, not wanting to break T’s concentration.
    “Pretty much,” T mumbled. “If you know what you’re doing.”
    “So you can teach me?”
    “They’d k-k-kill me. And probably you too, no matter wh-who your dad is.”
    Jason nodded. No need to push his luck.
    T’s finger’s stopped. The dew droplets had soaked into the metal turning the iron into a sort of putty that stretched and even pulled apart. T ripped the lock off and they snuck through the gate.
    “What now?” T asked, a little excitement curling his lips.
    “Now,” Jason grinned. “We fly.”
    Together they snuck onto the air strip. Electric lamps illuminated the main path toward the hangars, but the two and a half moons were bright allowing T and Jason to creep along in the darkness without being seen. The first hangar they reached was unlocked and unguarded – the war was far from the Academy at Glass Waters and no cadets would ever dream of stealing an aeroplane.
    Not that Jason wanted to steal one, just fly it.
    Inside he charred smell of coal welcomed them, along with the sight of half a dozen planes. Dragon’s Breath, Ogre’s Revenge, Dreamstealer’s Fury. Which to choose?
    If you’re gonna do something wrong, do it right.
    The last one in line.
    Lightning’s Dagger – a PF7, dual engine, tri-winged raider.
    Jason had heard of new planes powered by gasoline and electricity but he’d never seen one, they were still experimental. These top-of-the-line steam flyer were the best, and Lightning’s Dagger was the fastest bird in the sky.
    T helped him taxi the aeroplane out of the hanger and onto the airstrip. Together they cranked the engine and started the propeller. Cogs and gears spun and it quickly thundered to life. The flyer was perfect, light glinted off it’s metallic body, large pipes snaked in and out of the craft carrying and letting out steam from the coal combustion. However, nothing felt right until they climbed aboard, Jason in the cockpit and T behind him in the gunnery.
    The plane shook and rumbled clanking Jason’s teeth together. He could barely see over the instrument panel.
    T stammered