22
Carmine blasted the fire hedge with a burst of flame.
The fire faltered in the force of the eruption as he leapt through.
The icy chill of his body was almost painful against Asta’s legs.
Her bent knees absorbed the impact of the landing, and she steered Carmine into a sharp turn to square the approach for the next series of fences.
She was on her toes, balanced over his shoulders.
She gave him his head for the jumps, and they hit them – one, two, three.
‘Good boy!’ Asta shouted. ‘That’s my boy. Come on, baby! Come on!’ She got low in the saddle and urged him forward as they raced for the chute, a narrow passage that steered the racers single file directly past the Needle and deposited them at the base of the mountain.
Essie and Felix were right behind them. Only one other team – Asta’s old friend Basma Bohra and her orange-speckled dragon, Stryke – was ahead of them.
Asta knew they couldn’t beat Basma to the chute, but if they ran defensively, Carmine could keep ahead of Essie to hold their position.
Behind Felix, a group of four teams were vying with each other, hungry for the lead.
The air was filled with dust and the sound of charging, panting dragons.
Over the din, riders called to their dragons and cursed at one another.
Asta looked back over her shoulder to see Carmine whip his feather-tipped tail into his sister’s face.
Essie’s furious roar shook Asta’s bones.
Asta kept her eye over her shoulder, watching to see what move Felix would make next.
Once they got to the chute, he wouldn’t be able to pass, so he would be looking for any opening between here and there.
As a rule, he never missed the chance to advance a position.
Passing now, Asta thought as Carmine veered around the plateau platform, would mean running Essie flat out.
She steered Carmine close to the false ladder in their path, giving Felix the temptation he needed.
Essie’s head appeared at Asta’s side. She pushed forward with long, rolling strides.
Carmine was pulling to keep pace with his sister, but Asta held him back.
Soon, Felix and Asta were even with one another. His posture had a gloating air to it. Asta put herself into a crouch, as if she was running as hard as he was, but she let Felix pull away just before the chute.
Above them, on the VIP deck, the richest owners in the country were perched, watching the teams as they passed in the chute, scrutinizing their form and their physique. It was like being paraded in front of bidders at auction, Asta thought with distaste.
The walls of the chute were so close that Asta could have leaned over and touched one.
She could hear the dragons’ wings scraping against them as they ran.
Glittering images rose in the air beside her, but she was going too fast to process what they were supposed to be.
At the end of the chute, the mountain stood before them like a wall.
They would go airborne at the top, fly to the Needle, and circle a buoy on the far side of the oval before landing for the final pit stop.
Essie and Felix were out of the chute and on to the mountainside.
Ahead of them, Basma and her dragon were already climbing the steepest part of the scramble.
Asta stood in her stirrups as the incline increased, and she clung to the handles on Carmine’s harness to keep herself as flat as possible against his shoulders and neck.
She didn’t want to throw off his balance.
The next team – a rider named Adam Soroko and his piebald green dragon called Magnolia – was out of the chute and already overtaking Asta and Carmine. The green dragon was unstoppable, leaping up the scramble like it was running on flat ground. Soon, Soroko was past Felix and Carmine too.
With Basma in his sights, Soroko made his move – leaping from one outcrop to the next – but Magnolia missed her foothold and dropped twenty feet, clipping Essie and Felix as she tumbled past. Essie fell after the green dragon, Felix clinging to her back.
Asta watched helplessly, as it looked like Essie might roll.
But the black dragon braced herself with her wings and tail and skidded to a stop, Felix still on her back.
Asta’s mind was filled with the gold dragon rushing at her and the bodies piled on the track.
The pain which had been tamped down by adrenaline and painkillers squeezed at her body as terror grabbed at her heart.
She pulled Carmine off to a side track. It was steeper here, but safer too.
Carmine kept climbing, silver eyes locked straight ahead.
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.