CHAPTER FIVE
Gottyk roared. The deep rumble trembled up from my ankles, reminding me just how intimidating my usually sweet dragon could be. I grinned inside my helmet. This wasn’t the first time we were fighting on the same side today.
I hefted the sword in my hand and slashed. The arcan tucked down, letting the arcanite blade sail over it. Somewhere in the cliffs there was a dark control room full of Volitant arcanists, one of whom would be delighting in making me – Thorne – miss.
I swung the sword back to my right and clipped the arcan’s ears. The brilliant orange blade sliced through, sending bronze chips scattering against my armour. It sprang up and coiled inwards, becoming a sphere of interlocked metal plates as it floated in the air, spinning.
‘Shit!’
I dropped the reins and brought the sword up just in time. The arcan ground against the flat of the blade, sending sparks flying. My visor dimmed, but all I could see was a bright Kiestral orange.
My back strained as the arcan pushed. I braced my forearm across the flat of the blade, but if the arcan pushed the edge against me even my new armour wouldn’t last long.
This is why I didn’t like great swords. Too big and bulky. Not only did I hate Thorne, but I hated his racing style. It was making me suck. I had to do something before I lost either a limb or the race.
My legs were clamped around the saddle, desperately holding on to Gottyk. Moving them would be a risk, but there wasn’t another option other than getting my face ground by a spinning arcan. So I loosened enough to tap Gottyk twice with my ankles.
Gottyk tucked his wings and threw us into a barrel roll. As he did I shoved the arcan to the right. It tumbled past us, carried away by its own momentum.
The straps at my waist tightened, stopping me from falling into the lake far below. As Gottyk levelled out the visor lenses adjusted and I was able to see how many riders had overtaken me – all of them.
Which left the remaining arcans for us, all alone over the lake. They glinted in the sun, the bright bronze hard to spot against the backdrop of the golden cliffs as they blocked our entry to the gap.
‘Okay, buddy, it’s time!’
I leaned forward, holding the sword out over his right wing.
He sped up, flying towards the cluster waiting for us.
The cooling system in my suit activated – Gottyk was heating up.
I grinned. This was something I’d never been able to practise with him thanks to a few pesky laws about not breathing fire outside of race conditions.
Light sparked all along the interior of Gottyk’s neck. At each vertebrae the next flash of combustion lit up, sending a roil of flame along his throat.
‘Burn!’
Heat and light exploded out in front of us. It caught the arcans in a wide arc, turning them into half-melted slag. The sight of them dropping out of the air like stones into the lake below sent a ripple of pleasure through me. The first round of arcans was done.
If I hadn’t been holding the reins and sword I would have punched the air. I may have raced with drakes and wyverns before, but it couldn’t compare to this. Dragons were in their own league. My heart swelled at the feeling.
‘Current position: P10. Lap time: two minutes forty.’ Hector didn’t bother including tenths of a second for my lap time – a clear indicator that I was lagging behind.
The front of the pack would be hitting times below two minutes and fifteen seconds. I had a lot of time to make up over the remaining nineteen laps if I wanted to drag myself out of last place.
We arced through the gap and began our second lap. If this was the only chance I’d get to fly in Volitant then I wouldn’t waste it. I refused to lose.
Being a back marker – a rider at the back of the pack – wasn’t anything to be pleased about. Yet there was at least one benefit. Each time we passed through the lake basin the arcans had been dispatched by the other riders, making it clean air and faster lap times for us.
By lap fifteen I could see the Mirendi dragons’ tails going around the next corner, tantalizingly close. By lap nineteen I could see the details of the white dragons with their spikes painted red. They looked as aggressive as their riders, Gordi and Mac Boll.
The Boll brothers were known for getting hot-headed and making foolish mistakes. That gave me hope. If there was anyone in the race that I could guarantee to overtake, it was the thick-headed nepotism brothers on their Mirendi whites.
We wove through the chicane, Gottyk spreading his wings wide to bank left, then right.
Once in the next straight my lenses shifted as I focused on the leader, number thirty-four.
Gordi, then. He was wielding a bright white spear, matching the Mirendi team colour. Number forty-three, Mac, had no weapon.
I stowed the greatsword on my back, the connection between my shoulder blades holding it in place. The moment the hilt disconnected from my hand the bright orange blade disappeared. What I was about to try was less about fighting and more about flying.
The brothers veered to the left, approaching the upcoming circuit split.
I pulled on the reins for Gottyk to climb.
We needed some height. There wasn’t a roof over the canyon, but there were sensors that would trigger if any rider or dragon went past them, earning a penalty.
I pushed our luck as much as possible, grazing the maximum height of the circuit.
The crowded grandstands roared as we flew by.
It was the first time since the launch I’d even noticed them.
The moment only felt sour, knowing that they wouldn’t be cheering if they knew who I really was. An unknown rookie replacing a seasoned rider of two decades … in last place. I grunted out the bitterness. The least I could do was change one of those.
The Bolls were flying midway down the chasm, taking the medium branch. Gordi flew directly above Mac. One protecting the other as they searched for an arsenal.
Slowly.
Gottyk and I flew behind them, a few hundred feet above. Far enough that their proximity sensors wouldn’t pick us up until it was too late. Their team might let them know over comms, but that was something for strategists to worry about, not me.
I watched them closely, grateful for the visor lenses at this distance. I waited for the right moment.
They swerved slightly, but continued on. My palms started to sweat before the gloves cooled them down.
Then, they slowed. Mac tilted to lean over the side of his dragon to reach for an arsenal I couldn’t see.
‘Now!’ I pitched forwards.
Gottyk gave two powerful flaps of his wings and then tucked them back. A dragon’s top flying speed was around a hundred miles per hour. No matter how hard we tried to catch up to the Bolls in a straight line we wouldn’t manage an overtake.
A dragon’s top speed when diving was over four hundred miles per hour. Gottyk didn’t have the height for it in the canyon, but we didn’t need to reach the maximum. If I’d judged it right, we had enough to cut past the Bolls.
Staying ahead was a problem for later.
First I had to withstand the pressure of the dive.
Air rushed past us, shaking me to my core even with the flight suit and armour on.
I could see the air streaming off Gottyk’s horns, misty white tendrils that cut through the air.
The faux horns on my helmet would be doing the same, matching my dragon.
My dragon. My lips curled up as we plummeted towards the craggy riverbed.
The Bolls looked up. Their team must have tipped them off even before the proximity sensors did. They sped up, kicking their dragons’ sides as if it made them faster. They flew in a straight line ahead while we dived at an angle. It would be a close call.
‘You’re on track to crash with the Mirendi riders. Pull up.’
Hector’s message couldn’t have been less welcome. Thorne might have listened on a good day, but I had something to prove. All I needed was to get ahead of one of them, just one.
I flattened myself against Gottyk, my neck at a harsh angle so I could look forward. His wings tightened against my legs. Anything to eke out a few extra miles per hour. Every foot of airspace was going to make a difference.
The details of their armour became clear within seconds. The red light of their arcanite under the white armour. The way their oversized shoulder guards were spiked to match their dragons.
My boots nearly vibrated off of my feet with the intensity of the proximity sensors. As we shot past Gordi on his number thirty-six dragon he raised the tip of his weapon. The white tip of his spear swung upwards, right into the path of Gottyk’s left shoulder.
Anger boiled over. I hauled the reins to the right. Gottyk roared at the sudden command. He rolled out of the line of collision with the weapon, sending us towards the canyon wall.
He spread his wings, catching the air. His talons grazed the golden stone. I could feel the vibrations ricochet through to my armour. He balanced us out before hitting the river and brought us to speed under the two Mirendi dragons.
‘That sack of dragonshit! Absolute waste of fucking space piece of—’ Frustration burst out of me, but was cut off by a far more intimidating sound.
Gottyk’s roar consumed me. The helmet could only dampen the sound so much and it came alive in the deep rumble of his chest.
I didn’t need to use the comms to yell for Hector to report Gordi. Gottyk had just let everyone know how we felt.
I watched the Boll brothers warily while Gottyk took care of our flight path. There wasn’t much of the circuit left. We were about to join the last corner before the lake – the finish line. I was seconds away from the end of my first race. Seconds away from never racing again.
‘Fuck it!’
I tore off the copper connection on my right palm and pried at the tiny piece of arcanite embedded into the glove. The orange stone swirled with light as I pulled the hilt from my back. I set the stone into the weapon itself. The great sword surged into being once again.
‘Get ready to go for it!’ I called to Gottyk.
He lowered his head in reply. He wanted to settle the score too.
I held the sword by the end of the grip, far lower than normal. I leaned back, raising it over my shoulder like a javelin.
There were dozens of rules on rider combat. No direct damage, no wounding or otherwise harming the others during the race. There was nothing in the rules about damaging the circuit itself though.
I hauled the sword at the cliffside where it jutted out into our flight path.
The Bolls saw the collision coming and balked, swerving away. Gottyk flew straight.
The sword pierced the stone and then fell, slicing as it went. Chunks of golden rock fell away from the cliff, tumbling down after the orange blade. It wasn’t much, but it was enough.
Mac veered right, deeper into the corner. Gordi kept flying on the racing line, not moving out of the way for his brother. The wings of their dragons collided. Gordi ploughed on, ignoring the chaos it caused for his brother.
Gottyk and I continued wide around the corner, neck and neck with Gordi. Then it came into view: the finish line.
The lake waited for us in its glittering blue glory, finally free of arcans. A gigantic Volitant banner rippled in the sky, trailed by wyverns. Small dots of blue, green, purple and orange confirmed that the other riders had already finished.
Proximity sensors vibrated on my back. I was sandwiched between the Mirendi riders with only a few seconds to go.
I placed a hand on Gottyk’s shoulder. We’d come so far.
Not in the race results – dropping from fifth wasn’t something to celebrate – but from the decision to put on the armour to reaching the finish line we’d been in this together.
His neck stretched out and I felt myself mirroring him, desperate to eke out a few more inches. Gordi and Mac were so close, but I couldn’t risk looking to the side and slowing us down. The last hundred feet were the longest I’d ever flown.
I crossed the finish line with Gottyk. The crowds cheered, but not for me. No one knew what I’d done, or what Gottyk had done for me. For now, I had to be content in proving it to myself.
The rider they cheered for was waiting for me back in the aviary and I had no idea what I was going to do about it.