Race
“Let’s run down the starting order before the race gets under way. Niki Coro juuuust edged out Feran Andoal for pole position in a thrilling shootout yesterday, the margin was six hundredths of a second on the final attempts. They were really the class of the field, Lucia Aelschu couldn’t touch them, coming in third with Arden Markwe behind her locking out the second row for Royal Hermeia. Lyonne Ertku had a strong showing in fifth for Lautern, then Phoebe Tenryuu in sixth on what honestly looked a bit like an off day. Gerald Ipemas was seventh, and Teda Nioli out-qualifies her teammate for the first time this year to round out the top eight. We’re set up for a bit of a showdown at the front, right, Bob?”
“Aye. Niki’s not been off the podium yet in zir IL career but ze must be hurting to get that first win, to say nothing of gaining some ground in the championship.”
“Can Feran stay with zir? Over half this course is full-speed wing-strength stuff.”
“The rest is very tight and twisty, though, and the hairpin round the bottom end of the bridge breaks up the fast stuff, it’s a balanced course.”
“That’s true, the top eight are an even mix of bigger and smaller drakes, if you count Teda Nioli’s Vanguard as on the small side for a gold.”
“That’s a bit of a stretch, Vanguard still has almost forty pounds on Corredeira and Fleet, more on Soot.”
“Do you think it’s a day for the bigger dragons, then?”
“Maybe by a hair, but that’s not going to stop Feran. Or Tenryuu, if she can hook things up properly. There were flashes of brilliance in practice.”
“What about Royal Hermeia? They’ve had a rough start to the season but they’re in good shape here, surely?”
“Never, never count Lucia Aelschu out. Olympia’s a powerful dragon and Lucia will do everything she can to catch the leaders. And Arden is a hell of a rider too.”
The start lights went out and Soot responded to Phoebe's movement before she felt it herself. Together they lunged out into the centre of the stadium aisle, flat and hard as Lyonne, opposite and thirty feet ahead, went low. He didn’t often do that but Phoebe had watched him start too many races not to recognise his setup.
Soot drove powerful rearward wingbeats while Phosphora wallowed at the bottom of her dive, and they shot through the first ring nose to tail, Soot with the altitude advantage. Phoebe leaned hard right, pulling Soot round tighter than Lyonne’s much larger dragon could, trading height for speed out over the water. Sky stretched towards the second ring and for a moment Soot's stroke synchronised with Lyonne’s and it felt more like a formation flyover than a race.
It was hard not to tense up and grit her teeth as Phosphora pulled steadily ahead through the second and along the river towards the third. Soot was never going to outpace her in this kind of flying. Phoebe held her legs tense, managing her weight with the rise and fall of Soot's stroke. They’d shortened the stirrups slightly to help in the corners, but the tradeoff was that they didn’t fit quite so well for open flying. Soot pulled closer and tighter to Phosphora’s line through the third and into the long straight to the fourth, but now the bigger dragon’s tail was clearly out of reach.
Matching her movements as best as she could to Soot's beat, Phoebe stole a glance behind. Renner enveloped much of the sky, maybe a few feet above Soot and too close. Phoebe held her nerve in a tense, hard grip, trying not to let that carry over into anything Soot would feel. None of this was unexpected. The second half of the lap would be better.
They swept through the fourth ring and just as at the first, Soot swung tighter than either of the golds sandwiching him. Phoebe hung strong in her left stirrup, stable where she’d been shaky and straining yesterday, and when Soot righted it was as if he was on a different course altogether to the other two, who were out a full wingspan or more to their right.
Ahead, the lead trio were rising over the shore, shining in the spectacular Galician sun. Phoebe took note of Feran Andoal’s angle of approach, well inside Niki’s and Lucia’s. That was her marker for where to place Soot. Off to her right, Phosphora was still ahead and Renner was continuing to gain, but the hairpin through the fifth and onto the bridge was to the left. Maybe she wouldn’t catch Lyonne here, but she wasn’t falling behind.
“Feran’s going to be so tight on Niki here, pushing hard for that first lap advantage, they’re up and up and here it is, Corry opens his wings almost vertical and-“
“Would you look at that, Incandesia climbing into the turn to take Feran’s line and Feran just holds it through the ring-“
“Incredible, if they were any closer they’d have touched but they’re both through safely and it looks like Coro has a neck ahead still as they continue to rise over the bridge.”
“That was masterful, ze must have learned that one from Lucia.”
“Yes indeed, no fear at all from Niki, ze put zir absolute trust in Feran and Feran delivered.”
“Great flying from them both.”
“We’re in for a fun afternoon- wait look at that, Soot's doing almost the same thing to Phosphora-“
“Nah, Phoebe’s taking it more carefully, look, staying lower and letting Lyonne have this one. Keeps him on his toes, though.”
“Look at how she gave herself some breathing room back to Ipemas, too.”
“A scouting run. If Lyonne can’t pull out a lead soon – and I mean soon, in the next couple of laps –Phoebe's going to make his life a misery round this corner.”
“Can we keep this pace up?” Phoebe felt the tension in her jaw as she spoke into her throat mic. Five laps in, it felt like they’d been flat out for the whole distance as Soot swept through the second ring, still hard on Phosphora’s golden tail. At least the long power section meant she had a chance to check in with her team mid-lap here.
“It looks good,” Adelie sounded confident. “We’re not seeing any warning signs.”
“I think you can push harder if you want, in short bursts,” Stefan butted in.
Voice a tone higher, Adelie said, “You think-?”
Phoebe cut her off as the third ring flashed past. “I’m going to take it tighter round the bottom of the bridge, Soot's eager. If there’s even a flicker in his shoulders, tell me.”
Lyonne was pulling away ahead again, but Phoebe was getting used to it. She checked behind, but that was getting less and less necessary as Gerry Ipemas and Renner fell slowly back. Renner was just too sluggish through the towers at the end of the lap.
Legs taut, Phoebe watched the grand sweep of the bridge ahead as Soot raced towards it. Under the sun, Phosphora was a little too bright to look at, and by this point she knew Lyonne’s line. She doubted he would be able to turn tightly enough to block what she had in mind even if he saw it coming, and he wasn’t wasting energy looking.
She shifted her weight back, ever so slightly, trusting Soot to feel it and rise accordingly. Climbing would give Lyonne a few more feet of lead, but if Phoebe pulled this off that would be irrelevant. The shadow of the bridge’s cable fell across her for a fraction of a second and she flattened herself forward again, eyes on the fourth ring.
Phosphora went through, slamming air with her wings up past forty-five degrees, carrying speed, just as she’d done every lap so far. Phoebe threw all her weight onto her left stirrup, relishing its rock-steady balance as Soot responded, folding leftward and dropping.
As if he’d read her mind, Soot snapped his wings back open the second they cleared the ring, turning force picking Phoebe up bodily and righting her onto his back. Then he powered back into his regular stroke, leaving Lyonne floundering almost forty yards out to their right. Phoebe let herself bob a couple of times with Soot's beat, working her protesting knees.
She looked over at Lyonne, reading the sudden confusion in his body language. Phosphora would still have the advantage in this climb to the fifth ring but Lyonne had to see he was already beaten for the hairpin turn. To her mic, Phoebe said, “How’d it look?”
“The gyro went wild but nothing else flickered.” Stefan sounded almost irritated, probably with the poor fit between his model and the data the harness was sending back.
“Adelie?”
“I’m looking at the same data Stefan is,” Adelie said, as if Phoebe had forgotten. “I don’t see any warning signs.”
“She makes it look easy, doesn’t she?”
“She makes it look like magic, I worry every time I see Soot turn like that. They’re going to be really tight on five, too.”
“Yes, there they go, look, she’s got him climbing for another stall turn, Ertku’s completely outmatched.”
“Not even trying, even with a neck in front on the straight, looks like, he’s giving here room-Tokugawa's Teeth but Soot doesn’t slack off, though.”
“Beautiful flying. That puts Tenryuu up into fifth, think she can catch Arden Markwe from there?”
“Lot of race still to go, let’s see her pace in open sky.”
* * *
“Lap thirty-nine, a lot of late perches this race, looks like.”
“Looks like. Conditions are good despite the wind, the dragons are probably having a good time out there.”
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“True, true. And this is a low-speed course overall, even with the river section. Still, the leaders will have to come in soon, surely?”
“Depends who blinks first, Sam.”
“Who do you think?”
“Arden’s probably got least to lose, there’s decent space down the order for him to drop into and Phoebe’s nervy about perching, she’ll probably follow him in. Niki and Feran are so close together they’ll probably leave it till the absolute last.”
Soot rose over the thick bridge cables, wings beating a strong, steady rhythm as he chased Arden Markwe’s Fleet towards the seventh ring. Phoebe let her legs relax a little as they reached altitude; with how well Soot was flying, her own thighs were probably the weak link. Even there, the warmth of the sun and the fresh, playful tugging of the wind at her flight suit were a perfect, gentle massage.
They passed the seventh ring, and Petunia's voice came over the radio. “Two point one seconds.”
Another two tenths gained that sector. For all that Phoebe had expected to do well in the city, it was the bottom of the bridge where they’d found the clear advantage, especially over the silver Fleet. Phoebe said, “Do we perch?”
“Stay out, stay out, stay out.” Stefan was emphatic.
“Adelie?” Phoebe didn’t want Stefan’s computers pushing Adelie out of the loop. Besides, Adelie had more experience actually judging Soot's performance and needs.
“There’s nothing in the numbers to worry about, Phoebe. You’re cruising.”
Petunia cut in, “I know it’s not a straight comparison but Anelace dropped a second of pace last lap.”
Idrin Felvan’s silver drake was a midfield runner at best and years younger than Fleet but it was smart of Petunia to even think of checking their times. Phoebe heeled Soot over, sharply right between hotels to the eighth ring, watching Fleet take a wrenching stroke to stabilise for the return left ahead.
They tore round the BSCH tower, and by the time Soot had straightened into the descent back to the stadium, it was clear Fleet was slowing to come in for her perch. Phoebe took a deep breath and kept her head down, letting Soot know through her stance to ignore the older dragon’s lead. He did as bidden, flapping once and then neatly hauling round the tricky stadium entry. Phoebe watched his shadow flicker over Fleet as she glided up the perch lane below, lost behind too quickly to track.
“Look at that, Bob, Phoebe's nerve held.”
“That’s smart. Lot of space to work with and Soot's pace is good.”
“Indeed. And- oh, wait, look at this, Feran’s got a run at Incandesia under the bridge, is he going to-“
“He’s got to, with that kind of edge, Niki hasn’t given him many opportunities.”
“It’s going to be suuuuper tight, unless Feran’s had time to learn Phoebe's dive turn- no, he’s just going to- is he going to make iiiiiit- yes, whew.”
“Beautiful.”
“Can he hold it up over the bridge?”
“Looks like Niki isn’t fighting it too hard.”
“Strategic, do you think?”
“Absolutely. Give Feran a few yards’ gap and then do whatever he doesn’t when they come back round to the stadium. Perch if he doesn’t and be out in clear air, or just take the lead back if he comes in.”
“Is that too obvious?”
“I don’t think so. It’s a classic play for a reason.”
“Can I come in yet?” Phoebe tried to put a bit of humour into the words as Soot pushed towards the city again. She wasn’t trying to do the maths in her head, but this felt like the furthest into a race they’d gone without perching. Soot didn’t seem to be struggling, but…
There was a click from her earpiece as if someone was about to speak, then a second click. Adelie said, “Soot's condition looks great and times are consistent, we can hold at least another lap.”
“Fleet’s struggling, I think you’ll have the space this lap unless they pick up a lot.” Petunia sounded less confident than Adelie, which was unusual except that she was working from much more speculative data.
“Get everything ready but keep an eye on those times.”
“There’s Corry coming off his perch now, where’s Incandesia?”
“This is going to be close, Sam, frighteningly close.”
“Looks like Corry got a good launch, Feran’s teeth must be clamped tight as a vice right now.”
“Here comes Niki through the tenth, I think ze’s going to get him.”
“What’s Niki’s time, a one minute thirty-eight… dead on looks like, that’s going to just be enough…?”
“Corry leaps upward out of the perch ring but there, yes, Coro was ready for that, slips just enough sideways to keep up and go through.
“Niki Coro reclaims the lead on lap forty-three, then, twenty-seven to go. Can ze keep it?”
“Ze’ll be vulnerable the next couple of laps but I think Feran overcooked it just a little on that launch. That gives a tenth’s grace or so.”
“I wouldn’t count on that against Feran Andoal.”
“Nor would I, Sam – oh, look, here comes Phoebe.”
“This could be tight too.”
Dipping through the green perch ring under the red-and-white-striped tenth made the final corner even trickier than usual, but Soot took it well, making up for Phoebe's sagging knees. The thirty-five-knot pace felt like treacle despite the cheering faces rushing past below. Soot dipped, stalled, and perched, almost daintily and without instruction, then all but lunged with his neck to grab the hose. Not from Adelie anymore but from Stefan, who handled its weight far more easily.
Phoebe caught her own water bottle from Petunia's neat throw and started to drink, working her ankles in their stirrups to give her legs some motion. Then she frowned. Adelie had leant in close to Soot's shoulder, some instrument or other in hand, and was peering closely at his wing joint.
“Arden’s pushing Fleet very hard through there.”
“He has to if he wants to keep the place.”
“That’s true but- look at that line around the tower, he’s carrying so much speed.”
“Phoebe's away.”
“Fleet’s dropping hard to the tenth, that’s steeper than I’ve seen anyone- no wait he’s overcooked it, that’s-“
“Whew, that was scary.”
“Barely made the ring at all, I hope that’s not strained Fleet’s wings.”
Soot passed the first ring and slammed his first beat defiantly against the air, leaping up and right. As they swept the corner, it was easier for Phoebe to look back and see Fleet cruising up to the ring. They probably would have passed the venerable older dragon either way, but Arden’s mistake had made it a sure thing.
There was no sign of the fresh fluid load in Soot's progress, and his rhythm was steady as he drove down the river. Phoebe radioed, “Everything ok, Adelie?”
“Yeah, what’s up?”
“What were you checking on the wing?” Phoebe tried to keep her voice gentle, but between the effort of managing her weight on Soot's back, the radio’s harshness and the worry creeping through her, she probably sounded pretty stiff.
“Oh, just double-checking the sensors,” Adelie said, and Phoebe could hear relief in her tone. “We couldn’t believe how good the readouts look so I decided to confirm.”
“Oh.” For a moment, as Soot folded his wings neatly through the second ring and beat on again, Phoebe couldn’t find words. Then, “What’s the gap to Lucia?”
“Fourteen seconds.” Petunia sounded like she’d had the number ready to go.
“Can I push that hard?”
Adelie and Stefan spoke at the same time, and Phoebe couldn’t make out the words, but the encouragement was clear.
“Niki’s got a run at Corredeira again, look, they’re side by side up to the fifth again and it looks like- wow, Feran’s tried everything there to hold the position and he’s never quite had it, has he?”
“They’re giving us an absolute masterclass, this is one for the ages.”
“Our producer has just informed me that’s the eighth change of leader this race, that’s extraordinary.”
“And despite that, Lucia isn’t catching them.”
“She’s pushing hard, though, her times are coming down.”
“That’s just trying to fend off Phoebe, though, look.”
“Soot looks to really like these conditions, he just looks absolutely lovely on the wing right now, doesn’t he?”
“He does. Wait, is Olympia ok?”
From two hundred yards back, Olympia was a pulsing golden needle, dazzling when the upstroke of his wings threw sunlight at Phoebe. It wasn’t a problem yet, but it would be worse as the gap continued to close. With six and a half laps to go, Lucia had found enough pace that Phoebe would need some luck to overtake-
Just as he would have passed into the shadow of the bridge, Olympia slewed sideways in the air and dropped some altitude. Phoebe's heart leapt into her throat. Suddenly her legs were rigid, and she felt their strain, felt Soot sense her tension and waver in his own stroke. Olympia kept sliding, right towards one of the bridge’s towers, obviously lacking air control.
Sliding rightward, towards his famous old shoulder injury. Phoebe watched with ice in her veins. It was the worst possible place to go down. Even if Lucia managed to avoid the bridge’s massive concrete leg, if she couldn’t make it to shore…
The bridge’s shadow called Phoebe back to her own drake and the fourth ring. She tore her gaze away and leaned right, much more gently than she had been on previous laps, letting Soot pitch smoothly through the ring, away from Olympia’s struggles.
As soon as Soot levelled out, she radioed, “Is Lucia ok?”
“I don’t know!” Petunia sounded panicked.
“What’s the commentary saying?”
“Can she land in a swim?”
“In the middle of the current during an ebb tide? Are you mad, Sam?”
“Can Olympia land safely like that, though?”
“He’s going to have to. He managed it four years ago.”
“Looks like Lucia’s got him levelled out at least, that stance looks uncomfortable.”
“She’s readying to bail, look, better that he doesn’t land with her weight.”
“God, that’s brave.”
“Any rider who deserved even half what Lucia’s achieved would do the same for their dragon.”
“True.”
Soot levelled out through the fifth ring and Phoebe all but stood up in her stirrups, craning to see if she could spot Olympia. The opposite shore was too far away, though, the bridge too large and Soot was getting on with the ascent towards the sixth. Phoebe settled. There was no way she was going to catch Feran and Niki up ahead, and in her pursuit of Lucia she’d left Arden way behind.
Had she pushed Lucia too hard? She forced that thought aside. “Tell me they’re ok,” she said to the mic.
“They’re on the beach. Lucia got wet feet bailing out but Olympia made it to dry.” Petunia sounded extra squeaky. “It looks like he can’t fold his wing, the marshals are cordoning him off. The commentators have said the vet team are on the way.”
“Keep me updated. I don’t need pace or times anymore, just tell me they’re ok.”
“This just through from the air ambulance, they’re going to get the airlift copter down there and get Olympia to the hospital, but he landed well and vets are ‘confident’ he’ll fly again.”
“Good to hear.”
“It is, Bob, it really is. But we shouldn’t lose track of the race, look, Feran’s making a last push through the city.”
“It’ll come down to the tenth ring.”
“He’s hot on Niki’s tail, but it’s very tricky through there, that’s such a tight line around the BSCH Tower but Incandesia looks good in the descent-“
“Watch Niki’s positioning, ze can afford to be a bit sluggish off the turn if ze forces Feran to-“
“There they go, for a second I thought Corry was going to clip the ring but they’re through and Incandesia’s half a length ahead and there’s her stroke and she’s going to outlast him to the first and there, Nikita Coro is a race winner in the Imperial League!”
“Amazing finish, what a way to do it.”
Through the first ring for the final time, Soot almost didn’t seem to want the race to be over, stretching out his neck over the river as Phoebe settled her weight gently on to his back and leaned left. Reluctantly, the dragon wheeled and began to circle round towards the stadium. He might be eager for more flying, but Phoebe's legs were grateful for the rest. Trusting her balance, she sat up and stretched her arms over her head, working stiff shoulders.
Soot flapped lazily down to the podium pen where the gold mass of Incandesia and attendant horde of black-and-sage-suited Lautern techs made Corredeira look small. Even then, Adelie, Stefan and Tamra barely looked like they belonged at all, like they were specialised race staff and not a team. Phoebe left Soot with them and sprinted over to the winners’ table.
Niki heard her coming and turned in time to catch her leaping hug, laughing and spinning to absorb the charge. For a moment, Phoebe couldn’t get words out, gasping around her own laughter and the strength of Niki’s arms. Zir breathing was ragged, and Phoebe let zir get the first wave of emotion out before pulling back.
“You did it! You really did it!”
“I did!” Niki’s eyes twinkled. “I couldn’t ask for a better podium around me, either, I’m so glad you’re here.”
That sobered Phoebe for a moment. “Did they tell you about Olympia?”
“That he went down and they’re airlifting him.” As Niki nodded slowly, Feran approached and patted zir on the shoulder.
Then the champion’s attention turned to Phoebe. “Did you see it?”
Phoebe drew a breath through her nose. “Just before the fourth. One second he was flying straight, the next limping badly right. I was afraid they weren’t going to make it to shore.”
Feran let out a low whistle, face grim. “That shoulder.”
Phoebe met his eyes, trying to read them. It had been in close racing against Feran and Corredeira that Olympia had first developed the injury, when Feran had been the up and coming challenger on his way to his first championship. Did he feel guilt now? No-one would ever accuse Phoebe of forcing Olympia past his limits, but she had been pushing Lucia very hard those last few laps.
“We shall have to hope he recovers,” Niki said, voice stiff and awkward.
“Petunia said the vet reported confident he’ll fly again.” Phoebe tried to brighten her tone, but it sounded a bit weak in her ears.
It was Feran who smiled, reaching up to clap Niki on the shoulder again. “Come, we should go and celebrate. Olympia is strong and there is nothing we can do. You deserve your moment.”