Page 51 of Tailwind

The views through the windows had shifted from the warm yellows and browns of the north to the deep greens and purples of the south. The high-speed train slowed enough to pick out details; the shallow rolling hills were much the same as one another – endless farmland for crops and animals, scrubby hills with tough purple flowers and tall thick trees in clusters.

Even with the consistent temperature of the train I could feel the cooling of the atmosphere in my bones. As if on cue, droplets of rain streaked across the glass roof. They barely had time to land before being swept back by the speed of the train. We had most definitely arrived.

I unhooked my flight suit from by the door and climbed in. Fireproof, waterproof, dirtproof – there weren’t many elements it wouldn’t repel. The transition from train to the aviary barely required going outside, but I knew Gottyk would be keen to stretch his wings after so long spent indoors.

After brushing down his scales to clear off any errant copper pellets I saddled him up. Luckily Thorne was one of the riders who opted to travel separately in luxury rather than slum it with the teams – a choice the reigning champion Ellas Ruan, his teammate Jas Thokan and the Boll brothers also made.

The Victrolia riders and their dragons were on another level – and we were arriving on their home turf. Their team was the oldest and most storied in Volitant. They even had a second team competing in Volitant Forge. Victrolia’s history was Volitant history. Separating the two was impossible. Something that their leagues of diehard fans liked to bring up any chance they got.

I understood it. I’d been a Victrolia fan when I first started watching too. That’s where Bach had been when I first saw him fly. Right in the middle of his six-year stint with the team, flying for them in the legendary Decennial of the sixties.

My instincts kicked into gear despite my mind having wandered off, my legs braced against the slowing force of the train as the world outside slowed to a halt. The carriage shook, partly from being pulled from the railway and partly from Gottyk’s unhappy grumbles. We’d arrived.

‘Not long now and we’ll be back in the sky.’ I pulled out my keeper helmet from storage. ‘You can give me an overview of the track if you like?’

Gottyk stretched out his front legs, rubbing his neck and head against the floor, ruining all the brushing I’d done.

‘Don’t tell me you’re too sleepy?’ I teased.

A hot blast of air blew my hair back.

‘Okay, okay. Whatever you want!’

The wall of the carriage began to whir. I took hold of the reins attached to Gottyk’s neck. It wasn’t necessary for him, he wasn’t the type to bolt the moment the door opened. Humans though, they got skittish at an untethered dragon. Not that me holding on to a thin leather strap would do anything if Gottyk decided he wanted to go for a joyride.

A hiss emitted from the edges of the wall and damp air seeped into the cabin. The patter of rain was no longer only an outside noise as the wall swung upwards and outwards. In front of us stretched the train platform, already bustling with the receiving crews of each team. They had already attached a ramp for Gottyk, creating a flush walkway down to the ground.

We exited together, into the damp grey world that was Victrolia’s headquarters.

A loud snap brought my attention back to my dragon. His jaws were working away on whatever treat the logistics crew had sneakily fed him. The burly tattooed men in fluorescent orange watched him like proud fathers would a baby taking their first steps. In dragon racing the softest fans were the middle-aged men with dragon names stencilled over their hearts. Pretty cute really.

‘Thanks, guys,’ I called out to them as I hauled myself up into the saddle. ‘We won’t be long, just a loop or two over the forest.’

Thumbs-up all around from the crew. They were already closing up the carriage and removing the ramp. By the time we returned to the aviary the whole of the train would be unpacked and ready. Their speed could give Ruan a run for his money.

The trainyard ended in a long, wide building that connected the station to the Victrolia buildings. There was plenty of space to take off since everyone knew to keep back until the dragons had been let loose. Water poured down my visor and splashed up against my boots as Gottyk ran forwards, his wings finally stretched out to take us up.

To my right the gloom was broken by flashes of purple and blue. Ballenir and Prevere were also going out for a fly. Hesitant, I looked to my left.

They were a reflection marred by rain. Bach’s dragon, Rosinder, was Gottyk’s twin, quite literally. Born from the same parents in a rare pairing of eggs. The number forty was painted in white on her wings, instead of Thorne’s eighty-two. Bach wore the same Kiestral orange flight suit as I did as he and his dragon cut through the sky.

I breathed the fresh air in. I didn’t have to pretend. This was just me and Gottyk going on an exercise run. I’d had the chance to finally let loose in the gym, training with Theo. Now it was my dragon’s turn.

‘You’re in charge now!’ I called out to him.

Then I let go of the reins.

A high-pitched cooing noise reached my ears through the helmet. He may have been nearly one tonne, scaly and fire-breathing, but he sure sounded like a pigeon when he was happy.

I held on to the saddle and let Gottyk take us where he wanted. Last year we had done the same, but I was looking at our surroundings with a new sense of purpose.

We climbed higher and higher, but it still wasn’t enough to fly above the circuit: the redwood forest. Trees so big that they didn’t just grow out of the land, they were the land.

I’d watched the race from the ground before and it was a humbling experience. Not only the size – though I’d never felt so small in my entire life – it was the sense of ancient history the trees radiated. They had existed long before humans had arrived here and would be around long after. It was strangely comforting.

Instead of going over, Gottyk took us towards the cluster of thick trunks. If I were to give him credit, it would be for practice ahead of the race. Though, knowing him, he likely wanted to get out of the rain.

The moment we entered the forest would have been clear even with my eyes closed. The world became muffled. Not silent – the living statues around us were never silent. They groaned in the wind and rustled their branches as we blew by. The rain wasn’t gone, but filtered. Instead of the constant patter on my helmet and Gottyk’s wings it was a series of great drips as the water built up and dropped all at once.