The Silverscale Grand Prix: Day Six
Standard Western Class Final
25
Asta sat astride Carmine at the starting line of the Silverscale Grand Prix. Felix’s picture from last year’s award ceremony glowed on the screens above. The onscreen Felix played his part with studied perfection. Smiling. Exultant. ‘Unbeatable’ read the text on the screen. But she was the only one who really knew: this was a picture of Felix, beaten. This was what surrender looked like.
And her? If someone took a picture of her right now, what Asta would it show? Depends on who you asked. A scrappy competitor, some might say, coming from the end of the procession to earn a spot in the finals. A free spirit. An iconoclast. A miscreant. A disappointment.
Asta had no name for herself. She barely knew who she was anymore. She had come here thinking her life was her own, but for years, people had been using her dreams for their own ends. The Seraphins. The Bruces. Everything she thought she knew about herself, everything she wanted, they had stolen and turned into something else.Do what you do,Hummer had charged her. But what was it that Asta Ekenberg did?
She flew, that’s what she did. She went so fast that even gravity had to let go, and then she flew. Her and Carmine.
Asta could feel the eyes of the crowd on her– their expectation, their excitement. They had no idea, she thought, what they were about to see.
She pulled the magic cord from the zippered breast pocket of her race suit and looked at it, shimmering in her gloved hand. Felix had done as she had asked, and he was holding the magic strong for her. For now. But he didn’t know what she was about to do. This was her last chance to change her mind, she told herself.
Asta bent forward, as if she was inspecting something on Carmine’s harness. As quickly as she could, she secured the cord the way Felix had shown her. The trust between them would strengthen the magic, taking some of the burden off of Felix. Knotting the cord around one of Carmine’s spines, then around her own waist, Asta glanced as casually as she could to check that she hadn’t drawn any attention. There was no explicit ruleagainstmagic accoutrements, but she would rather avoid an inspection just now. She tested the cord and found it tight and strong.
So far, so good.
After seeing Felix at the stables, Asta had brought Carmine to the exercise grounds while the drakes ran their final race. The cheering of the spectators and the music from the track washed out to them in little lapping waves. The exercise grounds were all but deserted except for her and Karol, who swatted at gnats and dozed in the bleachers, deeply uncurious about what she and Carmine were doing on top of the canyon towers. Of course, it wouldn’t have mattered if hehadwatched her rappelling up and down the canyon walls, practicing how to elongate the cord while maintaining enough tension to avoid free fall, timing herself until she got it right. He wouldn’t have understood. But soon, he would. Soon, everyone would.
Carmine turned his head again to look back at Asta, awaiting instruction about where she wanted him to line up for the start. She loved that face– with its silver eyes and the tuft of red feathers on the chin– so much that it broke her heart.
She leaned forward to stroke his neck. ‘Do you trust me, Carmy?’ It wasn’t really a question. She knew he trusted her. If she knew nothing else in this world, she knew that.
The real question was, did Felix trust her? Did he trust her enoughnotto trust her this one last time but hold the magic anyway?
Nat rode to Asta’s side. ‘Stick with me, Ek,’ she said. She walked Vulture on without waiting for a reply. It wasn’t an invitation. It was an order. Asta glared at the back of Nat’s helmet and urged Carmine after the bronze-headed dragon.
Vulture’s shoulder spikes gleamed in the bright track lights. Nat directed her dragon to the outer edge of the track. It was an unexpected choice. Given Vulture’s slowness on the straightaway, Nat would end up with a lousy track position going into the first turn.
Asta looked down the track, then up and over the terrain. A few moments more, and then this devil’s bargain would truly begin.
The theme for the final race was ‘Monstrosity’. The day of the race had fallen on some old-timey holiday that featured ghouls, goblins, and death personified, and the course designers had made the most of it. The frame over the starting line was illusioned in a squirming, tangled mass of slavering fangs, grasping tentacles, and roving eyes. Fitting, Asta thought, for this place that brought out such evil in people.
The outer track remained unadorned, but the middle terrain was wild with monsters. Decrepit and moss-coated ruins crawled with spidery figures sporting jointed legs and human-like heads. Every jump, fence, and trench was a shimmering horror all its own. Even the buoys were part of the theme, with fleeing wisps of ghosts spiraling up their poles and tearing off toward the sky, one after another, as soon as they reached the top.
The fans, too, had gotten into the spirit of the day, and in among the usual team colors and pennants were faces painted like skulls, and the occasional short-lived illusion of a kraken erupted from the stands and writhed its way over the crowds before dissipating.
A ripple of exhilaration was running back and forth through the ten teams of riders and dragons assembled at the starting line. Basma and Stryke were looking strong and ready. Soroko and Magnolia would still be feeling the bumps and bruises of their fall on the mountain, just as Asta was still feeling hers from her encounter with the gold dragon. But the other teams didn’t matter; the only riders she needed to keep track of were Felix and Nat.
The race marshal mounted his box, green start flag in hand. Asta moved Carmine close to Vulture on the outside. Felix and Essie had snagged a coveted spot on the inside. Asta wished her two targets weren’t quite so far apart.
The marshal raised his arm, and the whole track grew attentive. Jingling tack and the huffs of dragon filled the quiet.
The horn sounded, and the flag dropped.
The dragons sprang forward as one body, and the crowd exploded with motion, color, light, and noise. Such incredible noise.
Asta was surprised at how quickly Vulture pulled ahead of the other dragons. She hugged the outside of the track, her long strides eating up the distance to the first turn. Meanwhile, the rest of the field, who were stretching out along the inside, languished. Vulture was outpacing all of them. Essie, at the least, should be faster than her. Had Hummer gotten to the dragons somehow? Drugged their feed?
Asta didn’t have time to consider it. She and Nat were well ahead of the pack now, and Asta steered Carmine in from the outer rail to cut the corner, expecting that Nat would do the same. As soon as she pulled away from Nat’s side, however, something in Carmine’s running changed. It was as if his feet were not getting the traction they needed. It reminded Asta of riding through the soft dirt of the paddock. Asta steered Carmine back to where Nat was running at the far edge of the track, and the ground seemed to firm up again.
It wasn’t the feed that Hummer had gone for. It was the track itself.Howhe had done it, she could not imagine.Thathe had, she felt certain.
They were in the turn now, but Nat held Vulture against the outside rail. Asta followed. Vulture, to her credit, was running a fantastic race. Her pace was steady and strong. It was rare for her to be out front for the ground race, and she was almost giddy. Nat and Vulture were on fire, Asta thought ruefully. They could haveactuallywon this thing– the right way.
