Page 17 of Tailwind

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.

CHAPTER SIX