Page 32 of Tailwind

I fumbled with the hilt, getting it connected to my glove and twisting the dial to the great sword. The oversized orange blade shot out, leaving a vibrant ghost in its wake. What it lacked in manoeuvrability it made up for in style, at least.

Bronze flashes of arcans scattered across the track in front of us, right where the three branches converged. Omar would still be partway down his longer route, so it was up to me to break through.

I batted the first one away using the sword blade like a shield, not even seeing it clearly before the collision. The next ones were already on us. Instead of the oversized rodent style of the Kiestral race, these Mirendi arcans were all bugs. Their hard armoured shells cracked open and thin sheet-metal wings fluttered out, letting them buzz around me and Gottyk while leaving behind arcanite mist trails just like my sword.

Like the beetles they mimicked – only a hundred times bigger – they swarmed. Gottyk flew onwards, but they followed. Three landed on me, forcing me to let go of the reins to yank them from my armour.

The arcans landed on Gottyk too. In a panic I swept them off with the sword, cleaving through the thin wings. I didn’t want them anywhere near my dragon.

I grabbed the reins again, pulling up, but only one side went taut, making Gottyk lean left instead of right as we approached turn one again.

‘No! Up, Gottyk!’

I pulled again and saw the problem – I’d cut through the reins on the right-hand side.

‘Shit!’

It was the sword. It was too big and cumbersome to aim with accuracy. The only credit I would ever give Thorne was that he’d made wielding this monstrosity look easy.

More arcans cut towards us. I swung the sword overhead, hoping windmilling the damn thing would deter them from getting too close. Too many got past. The suit’s haptic feedback sent the feeling of their needle legs through to my skin. I suppressed the urge to writhe and yelled in frustration instead.

No amount of swinging the sword was working. Fine. I’d use Gottyk’s weapon instead.

‘Burn, Gottyk!’

He didn’t need me to clarify where, he could feel them too. The light started at the base of his neck, sparking at each vertebrae. The flame roared out and Gottyk rolled his head. Fire spiralled around us. In half a second we were engulfed in flames.

My flight suit flooded with cold, compensating for the heat as much as it could. Even though I was protected, I shut my eyes, instinct kicking in harder than the need to see.

The flame and smoke cleared. I swiped off the now-defunct arcans. They rolled, heavy and immobile, off me and down to the street below.

‘No more until the breath timer is up.’

I wanted nothing more than to rip the comms out of my ear and have Gottyk incinerate them next. I knew I couldn’t use it again for half the race. At least we’d managed an overtake.

A flash of purple flew by, using the clear air I’d just created.

My anger spiked. This race had started badly and had only got worse. For all my effort in pretending to be Thorne I’d only screwed myself over. What was the point of doing this if I was stuck being a loser like him?

The competitive fire inside of me flared, hotter than Gottyk’s flames.

‘That’s it,’ I said. ‘No more pretending.’

Tailing Omar for a lap was easy enough to do. I followed him around the hairpin and along the next straight. Overtaking wasn’t going to be easy, but that wasn’t my priority for now.

I tapped my helmet for open comms. ‘Where’s the next arsenal?’

A pause.

‘Clarify. You want another arsenal?’ Hector’s tone was tentative.

I didn’t have time for tentative. Frustration was building to the point where I didn’t have to pretend to speak like Thorne. ‘Just tell me!’ I bit off the please at the end.

‘Long route, left-hand side, in the tunnel.’

‘Good.’

Ahead, Omar took the short route. Not a bad choice given he had his weapon – I should have done the same, but the sword was getting me nowhere.