To their right, Essie was sprawled on an outcrop, shaking her head and flexing her right wing. Felix was checking her from the saddle, twisting his body to look for injuries. Asta steered Carmine back into the center of the scramble path and up the mountain after Basma.
Basma’s pale, speckled dragon began to pound the air with its outstretched wings as it neared the pinnacle. With a running leap, Stryke was clear of the mountain and in the air. Asta and Carmine were not far behind.
‘Wings,’ she called to Carmine, and his wings extended and began to beat. ‘Go, go, go!’ He ran hard and fast toward the beacon, positioned at the jumping-off point. The trigger and the beacon flashed in unison as they left the ground.
The flapping of Carmine’s dark red wings made the air roar around Asta. She pressed herself low in the saddle and ran her hands against the dragon’s neck to urge him on.
‘Get ’em, Carmine. Go get ’em!’ She whooped as he soared over the terrain.
All around them, the stands seemed to boil like hot lava, churning and seething. The wind of flight and the noise of the crowd’s cheering blew past Asta’s face with a storm force. She adjusted Carmine’s approach to the Needle, going in for a side landing so that they could bank off it and redirect toward the buoy. Carmine’s feet touched the side of the spire for only a second, and he caromed off again after Basma and Stryke.
A motion below caught Asta’s eye. A black wing beneath Carmine’s red one.
It was Essie.
For a dreadful moment, Asta wondered if Felix had let his doubts about her get the better of him and now, after threatening it at the exercise grounds, was getting his final revenge for Asta’s dirty move at Pillar. She braced for the cut, hoping that she could keep Carmine in the air.
But she could see Felix now, crouched on Essie’s back. And something about the way he rode told her that she was wrong. His body was loose, almost relaxed. He looked up at her, and it seemed to her that he was trying to read her face behind her visor. He let go of the reins with his left hand and traced an arc in the air with his fingers, down and then up again like a bouncing ball.
Asta laughed aloud. He wanted her to do the Ricochet, one of their old tricks from the farm days. Carmine would fly right above Essie and then push off, sending her down while he went up. Felix was offering her an assist. If they both put on a burst of speed right after separating, they could overtake Basma simultaneously, one above and one below. It would be like nothing anyone had ever seen before.
‘Ricochet,’ Asta shouted to Carmine and dipped his head. He dropped them right on to Essie’s haunches and pushed off again, beating his wings furiously. Below, Felix and Essie were doing the same. Carmine and Asta shot up from the point of contact, passing Basma at a breakneck speed.
On the other side, they closed the space between them once again so that they flew almost directly on top of each other, so close that Asta thought Felix could probably touch Carmine’s belly above him. They banked in unison around the buoy. The beacon flashed double. Straightening as they descended to the track, they separated for the landing and ran for the pits to the sound of utter pandemonium in the stands.
Racers were required to enter the pit between laps, but Torque had not scheduled any gear changes for this stop. After the track lap, Carmine had been stripped of his shoulder spikes and slathered in enough aerogrease to last him the last two laps. They had put him in the lightest gear to minimize weight for flying.
‘Feed him,’ Asta yelled as Carmine took his position on the platform that Torque had extended over the pit. ‘Then we’re out of here.’ Torque shot a carb and protein puree down the dragon’s throat.
In a heartbeat, they were back out on the track for the final lap. Asta would have a second or two with the track all to herself. She had better make the most of it.
‘Fast, fast, fast!’ she screamed to Carmine. He sprinted forward, his wings already beating hard. They were in the air before the first turn. Asta kept them low to the ground to avoid the exertion of climbing too early. He had to save his energy for the finish line.
Around Asta, the world started to blur and fade. Even the cacophony of the crowd’s screaming grew dim. It was just her and Carmine and the track.
This, she thought, this was what she loved. Going fast and making the world disappear– no prizes, no politics, no Bruces, no anything. This was all she wanted. This, and Felix.
On the final turn, one sound penetrated her awareness. A dragon’s wingbeats, its panting, the jingle of its tack. Someone was gaining on her. Soon, Essie’s gold-ridged black head appeared beside her. To Asta’s distress, she began to pull ahead. Being friends with Felix again was all well and good, but Asta still had her pride. She wanted this win.
Felix was low in his saddle, making himself small against the wind. His leg brace flashed in the sun. Asta could hear him shouting to Essie. But his shouting wasn’t working. Essie was beginning to fade. Asta could feel herself gaining.
Should have let me lead through the chute,Asta gloated. But there was no time to revel in the success of her little ploy. It was time to climb.
The finish line was elevated fifty feet off the ground on a frame that had been constructed over the start last night.
‘Up, Carmine, go!’ Asta adjusted herself in the saddle, and his wings powered them upward. Asta held nothing back.
But just as they crossed the finish line, a Stryke-colored blur streaked past. The crowd screamed with excitement. Whatever Asta had saved for the finish, Basma had saved more. Had Carmine triggered the finish beacon first? Asta couldn’t be sure.
Throughout the stands, bright illusion pyros, the kind purchased by spectators from the stalls outside, sprayed showers of glinting, glimmering light into the air.
Carmine glided down to the track and jogged himself to a stop. Asta brought him close to Basma.
‘Great race!’ Asta called over the uproar.
Basma raised her mirrored visor. Her eyes crinkled with a smile. ‘You too, hotshot!’ She shook her head, but she was still smiling.
The other racers had finished now, and all eyes turned to the screens for the final ruling. Felix drew up beside Asta and waited with her in silence. He stripped off his helmet. His cheeks were flushed, and heaving breaths lifted his chest. The wind fretted playfully at his sweat-damp hair. Asta had to force her eyes back to the screen.
