CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE #3
Piece by piece, I put on the armour. The boots, which no longer had any room to wiggle my toes.
The leg pieces, smooth on the side that rested against the saddle and sculpted on the outside for aerodynamics.
The arms, shoulders and chest pieces were all decorated with the sponsors – the H of Miss Hough’s brand was bold in the centre of my chest and on my left pauldron.
On my right shoulder was the number eight.
No longer Thorne’s eighty-two, but my own.
I’d raced under that number since my Junior Drake days, and now I was finally able to bring it to Volitant with me.
It had been painted on the side of my helmet too, the white blocked number bright against the orange.
I held the helmet, looking into the empty eye holes that were slanted in fury. It might have been designed to inspire fear, but all I felt was a deeper connection to my dragon.
‘We match.’ I showed Gottyk, holding it up next to my head.
He rustled his wings and stretched them out, standing tall to proudly display the number eight painted on his wing.
My heart swelled. He was my dragon, he always had been, but now everyone else would know it too.
Suited, booted and strapped in, I sat in the saddle on Gottyk’s back and watched the people swarm below the pillar.
Our aviary overlooked the plateau of the start–finish line, a vast stretch of natural stone, before it dropped away into empty sky.
On the other side of the tower was the Monument Yard, filled with giant statues of dragons worn away by time.
Gottyk’s talons gripped the lip of the aviary, his long neck stretching out as he watched the other dragons launch their way towards the starting line below.
I hunched forwards, putting my head in line with his shoulder blades, and gripped the reins.
‘Let’s go.’
Giddiness built up inside as Gottyk looked back at me, then closed his inner lids. We tipped forward, his wings tucked in close to my legs, and toppled out of the tower.
My suit came to life, cinching in my legs to stop the blood rush and deafening the sound of the wind around my helmet.
The thrill was incredible. I felt every nerve ending light up as gravity took hold of us.
For a few more seconds we were free. The stonework of the pillar vanished floor after floor, too blurry to see, even as the lenses in my visor narrowed my focus.
Gottyk straightened out and I braced myself for the impact – he flung open his wings and caught the air, sending a ricochet through his body and into mine. Then we were gliding towards the crowd below, circling around the plateau.
The start–finish line was painted across the stone, with ten consecutive markings for each dragon’s start position. I headed to sixth place, having drawn the middling start position earlier.
Colour bloomed around each of the markings, the teams in their uniforms bustling to get everyone ready.
Then along the side the media pointed towards where we were aiming to land.
The casting orbs already shone from their arcanite, sending recordings of us across the continents to hundreds of thousands of homes.
There were no spectators in this hallowed ground of lost dragons, only Volitant, the teams and the media.
We would give them a show to remember, but not yet. I tugged on the reins to direct Gottyk down to the cluster of Kiestral orange. With the help of the visor I spotted Josie waiting for us. Her hand went to her ear, then her voice came through the comms.
‘Did you have to make it look like you fell out of your aviary?’
I grinned and tapped my helmet to reply. ‘It was his idea.’
I concentrated on landing, but didn’t need to look at Josie to know she was rolling her eyes. The crowd gave us plenty of space, parting to avoid Gottyk’s forty-foot wingspan. Behind us the intensity of the media increased. The hum of chatter rose even with my helmet filtering it out.
I had learned many lessons from Theo and not all of them had been over the summer. Whether I’d been sitting at home watching the race cast or holding Gottyk’s reins on the sidelines, I’d seen him dismount dozens of times. It always had the same effect.
So I unhooked myself and swung a leg off the saddle, dropping to the ground lightly. I found the catch under the lip of my helmet and released the connection. The noise of the plateau spiked without the arcanite power to muffle it.
With two hands I lifted up my helmet, turning at the same time towards the casters.
In one motion, I tucked my helmet under one arm and used the other to run a hand up into my hair, pushing it back as I looked up to some middle-distance spot over the heads of the crowd.
The bitter cold wind helped me out by whipping my hair dramatically.
The light from the casting orbs increased. Flashes came from the augments and shouts from the people wielding them, trying to get my attention.
I let myself smirk at a job well done and gave the media a fleeting glance before turning back to my dragon, my strategist and, for the first time, my team.
‘Show off,’ Josie muttered to me as I joined her.