As Asta wrangled her long hair into a makeshift bun, she berated herself for being so stupid. She had spent too much time with Natalia, that was the problem. She was starting to act like her. Nat always seemed so carefree, like the world could not touch her. Asta wanted to be like that. If Nat could forget about the race for one night, she had told herself, so could she.
Asta hesitated in the middle of the room, halfway to the door.
HadNat forgotten about the race?
She thought about Nat’s desperation during the ride a couple nights ago, how vicious she had become when the finish line was in sight. Maybe Hummer had gotten through to her, after all. This was Silverscale. Asta wasn’t her friend anymore; she was her competition. Asta hadn’t tracked how many drinks Nat had last night. She might be sitting at the starting line right now, fresh as a daisy.
Had she really been trying to help Asta relax, or was she sabotaging her?
Asta didn’t know. Three years virtually joined at the hip, and Asta didn’t trust her further than she could throw her.
And whocouldshe trust? Felix had long ago shown her his true colors. Even Gem would leave her for his musicians someday. The only person she could really count on was herself, and ever since she had gotten here, she had been on the verge of betraying even that trust. And why? Out of some pathetic need to be liked, to be accepted? That was over, she told herself. She was on her own team now and no one else’s.
She picked up her helmet and gloves and headed for the door.
They had five minutes in the pit. Torque was purple-faced with shouting. Some of the crew wrestled Carmine into his harness while others slathered him with grease. Torque followed with the terrain attachments– large spikes perpendicular to Carmine’s shoulders to keep the other dragons from jostling too close on the track and leg guards with steel protrusions for added traction. At the pit stop before the second lap, the ground gear would be swapped out for the flight gear. Gem secured the armband with Asta’s race chip above her elbow and boosted her into the saddle.
‘Go, go!’ Gem yelled.
Asta pulled down the visor on her helmet. She urged Carmine out of the pit with a squeeze of her knees. The sudden motion made her queasy, but she willed her stomach to settle.
She saw herself on the Needle screens scampering toward the starting line where all the other riders were poised and waiting. She could just hear the TV announcers making their snide remarks for the viewers at home:Cutting it a little close there, wouldn’t you say? Late to the field is Number 99, Asta Ekenberg, riding Carmine. Unaffiliated rider, and you can see why. Not terribly professional behavior, is it, Vern?
Asta had barely gotten Carmine facing the right direction when the horn sounded and the flag dropped. Carmine, too, was caught by surprise and reared for a moment before springing forward. The thundering of dragon feet on the track filled the air. Asta’s head cleared in a rush of adrenaline. There was no turning back now. This was Silverscale. All that mattered now was the race.
The first leg would take them halfway around the outer track to the entry point into the middle terrain. Asta was at the back of the pack of twenty-five riders as they came off the starting line. Several places ahead of her, she could see Nat on Vulture, straining to get loose of the fray.
The first sprint was a dangerous part of the course, especially as the dragons picked up speed. The teams were close together in a rumbling and disorderly mob, and the shoulder spikes clanked against each other in warning.
Still, Asta and Carmine were making progress through heavy traffic as they came into the turn. They were coming up on Nat and Vulture now. Nat slipped into an opening ahead of her, and Asta took the slot that Nat had left. Vulture’s large, dark brown form, painted with the fire-wings of the Bruces’ crest, undulated in front of them. Her bronze head flashed in the sun. Then, without warning, she reared on her hind legs and veered to the left.
Asta’s attention snapped into focus, and everything seemed to happen in slow motion.
A dragon was falling, turning, rolling. Asta could hear the bones break as the rider was crushed under its back. The racers behind the falling dragon did not have time to react. Their dragons, too, tumbled and fell. Tails and spikes and blasts of fire filled the scene ahead of Asta. She could feel, creeping into her mind, that frozen panic that had descended on her at West Granger. Part of her knew that if she let it take her now, she and Carmine could both die.
Asta jerked the reins to steer Carmine to the right, standing in her stirrups and signaling him to climb over the bodies before them.
The swinging neck of a huge gold dragon seemed to come out of nowhere, catching Asta full in the chest. It knocked her out of the saddle and pulled her across the rough ridge of Carmine’s spine. She could feel the grinding of Carmine’s hard body against hers, all along her left side, from her kidney to her thigh, like she was a rag on a washboard. Much more of this, and she would be torn apart. But somehow, she caught hold of one of Carmine’s blue-tipped spines and wrenched herself free of the gold dragon. She clung to Carmine’s back as the other animal continued to fall.
In the long seconds of slow-motion time, Asta congratulated herself for sleeping in. If she hadn’t, Gem might have remembered to fasten her tethers in the pit. And if she’d had them on, the gold dragon wouldn’t have just dragged her out of the saddle. It would have snapped her in half.
But even in slowed-down time, Asta did not have the leisure of contemplating her luck. The shoulder spikes of a bright green dragon were coming at her fast, and she hurled herself off the side of Carmine’s back, clinging to his right wing to keep herself from falling into the chaos below. Carmine, now climbing over the painted bodies of the dragons in front of him, flinched and wrenched sideways as one of the spikes caught him in the leg. The sudden movement nearly shook Asta off, but she hung on, her muscles burning.
She had to get back on top of her dragon. She reached for the strap of Carmine’s harness and caught it, grateful for a second handhold. One painful and desperate lurch at a time, she fought her way back on to Carmine’s haunches. He hit the ground and swung around to check on Asta. Seeing her out of place, he boosted her with his head back to the saddle.
‘Go!’ she shouted to him as soon as she had hold of the handles on his harness. They couldn’t be caught in the pile when the medics came, or they would be out of the race. ‘Run!’
The voice of the crowd surged in jubilation as Asta and several other riders broke away from the pile-up at a full gallop. From the center of the track, the medical alarm sounded.
Asta scanned Carmine’s body to see where the spikes had gotten him. There was a shallow wound on his left leg, just above the ankle, but his stride felt even and strong. They could wait until the pit stop after this lap to have it seen to.
Now they had to catch the front runners. There were only six teams ahead of them, one of them being Nat and Vulture, and another five teams behind who had gotten free of the disaster on the track. Twelve left of the twenty-five. All she needed to do was finish in the top ten to advance, but Hummer was right. This was Silverscale. While she was on this track, she would race to win.
Asta pushed Carmine to accelerate out of the turn and passed a wide-eyed scarlet dragon, its rider dressed in silver, head to toe. That would be the Taggart team. Asta could tell that Carmine was itching to beat his wings. It would certainly give him a burst of speed, but Asta refused to give the signal he was waiting for. He would be spooked after the pile-up and might not have the self-control to keep his feet on the track. They couldn’t take a penalty now.
But Carmine was running hot, even without the boost, and overtook the next two teams in quick succession. Nat and Vulture were next. Asta wanted to catch them before they entered the middle terrain. Nat hated being passed– it made her feisty and clouded her judgment.
Up ahead, the front runners veered off the track into the terrain, leaping the first two fences with powerful jumps. Asta let Carmine put on one last burst of speed so that they cut Nat off right at the entry point. Nat’s scream of frustration told Asta that she had made the right choice. Asta couldn’t help but feel a surge of enjoyment at Nat’s vexation. Payback for the hangover.
