Dragon Racers: The Complete Trilogy, page 18
She was going to win.
Chapter Thirty-Six
The long flight to the King’s Colosseum was tense, and yet relaxing at the same time. Sharrah had never seen the vast farmlands and numerous villages from dragon back. She hadn’t seen anything but the forest surrounding Dragon’s Keep and the keep itself. Now the Kingdom of Kahmar was stretched out before her. The clusters of buildings grew more frequent the closer they came to Prydonia. The gray and brown roads were dotted with people and the occasional wagon or cart left a slight cloud of dust behind it.
From Azure’s back, it looked like a mass of roaches had built a festering nest on the edge of a sparkling cobalt sea. She even thought she could see the tiny village where she and her mother once lived.
Like smoke from a chimney, a thin gray fog of cookfires, smelt exhaust, and steam hovered over the city. It rose and drifted off beyond the horizon. Sharrah couldn’t believe she lived in Prydonia long enough she’d grown accustomed to the smell. But then again, she’d lived across from and worked in a bakery. Those days, watching the samura practicing outside the window while she fed balls of dough into Guotin’s fancy machine in the morning, were all but forgotten.
She had half a mind to try and get a message to her Aunt Sadie. Sharrah wasn’t mad at her anymore. She understood Aunt Sadie hadn’t really gambled her away. Her life had taken a far more prosperous and adventurous turn. She had a pouch full of the coins she earned from Rompart. It was more than a half-year’s wage from fat Guotin.
She decided, her aunt had done the right thing by turning her over to Luumin. She’d grown fond of her strange father, and thought he’d grown fond of her. Sharrah really just wanted to tell Sadie to bet it all on her and Azure, so she would be alright in the aftermath. She wondered, for a time, about all the negative things her winning could cause. How many would go hungry? How many will lose it all? And the even more persistent question, how many would remember her win?
Azure spoke into her mind then, I do not lean on the words of Zandovi Rei often, but he had a saying. Do not despair over what becomes of those who are not wise enough to wager on us. Only if they are bold enough do they deserve a share of our victory.
"The worst will be the ceremony on the morrow. Before the race," Meifeng called from She’en’s back. "The king and a cohort of wager men will come look over each dragon, and you will have to stand at the cage door while he inspects you, too."
"We are racing tomorrow?" Sharrah was certain she’d misheard. She thought there was two days before the race, not just tonight.
"Yes, dear," Meifeng shouted. "We used up the extra day with Kin Kuul’s bonding. Don’t you remember?"
She didn’t remember, nor did she want to face King Travvingto. She was about to go against his wishes and possibly bring great harm to his kingdom. She didn’t even want to land and face another person. She started crumpling up the bits of fear and anxiety rustling through her head and tossing them away. After a while, she finally had her mind cleared. In the end she mastered herself and urged Azure to follow Meifeng down into the smoggy, metropolis.
To Sharrah the kingdom seat smelled like a filthy laundry kettle, and she again couldn’t believe she’d lived in the heart of it for all of two years. Out along the coast, where she’d been raised, the winds kept the air smelling salty and clean. Here it was a cacophony of scintillation. Oddly, to Azure, who could pick out the savory scents and ignore the others, it smelled of roasting pork, venison, and lamb. By the time they were on the ground, Sharrah found those smells, too and she was ready for a meal.
Several wagons from Dragon’s Keep looked like they’d just arrived. Cholt and Kura had left with separate groups after the feast. One group must have travelled through the night to be here. The other wagons hadn’t yet arrived and Sharrah wondered if they were even coming this way. Sharrah learned the waggoneers weren’t the only ones who left the keep right after the bonding ceremony either.
Glade and Mala were already in cages on the vast grounds inside the bowl-shaped arena. It looked far bigger from the field than it had from the stands. It was daunting, and Sharrah had an urge to heel Azure away and not look back. Eventually, though, she landed, dismounted, and followed Meifeng through a long downward sloping corridor that led away from the field.
“I brought us in the wrong way, dear.” Meifeng shrugged. “Sorry.”
It was good to be a dragon racer, Sharrah saw. A crowd was gathered round a feast table that was centered in a massive room with four columns supporting a crisscross of arches that divided the ceiling into six equal squares. Kin Kuul and Sir Deren sat smugly. They were surrounded by dreamy eyed women, wealthy looking men, lavish gifts, and more than one empty bottle of expensive looking liquor. And the strange smoke? A cloud of the odd smelling stuff hovered around them. They must have felt like they were in the clouds.
“There are the two lady racers,” a young girl said.
“We adore She’en,” a woman called over the din.
“I always put a coin on silver,” added another over a plethora of like comments.
“Come, dear.” Meifeng grabbed Sharrah’s elbow. “Run.”
“You’d better flee,” Kin Kuul called over them all. “On the morrow you’ll wish you never came.”
Meifeng took them down the large, dragon sized hall, away from the crowd. What few people who managed to follow were lost when she took them through a steamy, fully operational kitchen.
Sharrah saw trays of tarts. Literally thousands of them. Lemony yellow tarts, dark crimson garnished cherry tarts, and lighter pinkish strawberry ones. There were chocolate, vanilla, and caramel candies, too. They were all laid out to be sold at the race. There were so many chicken quarters she couldn’t imagine where all the birds had come from. It was hot and so chaotic that they were barely noticed. The sound of several machines, some pounding, some clanking, and others letting out fast bursts of steam filled her head.
They were actually avoided by those who did see them. At least until they passed a long table covered in pan after pan of sausages in buns. Sharrah grabbed one and narrowly avoided the flat of a wooden utensil, when the woman putting meat to bread, nearly got her.
“My count has to be right,” the old nag growled. “You’re gonna cost me a lashing.”
Sharrah ate the morsel wondering who would whip an old woman over a sausage roll?
Meifeng brought them out of the sweaty madness into an area almost identical to the one they’d just fled. This massive, arch-ceilinged room had its own feasting table too, but the room was completely empty, save for Kura who was asleep at the table, his reverberating snores the only sound in the hall.
There were four thick square columns that the table was centered between. They had names painted haphazardly from twice Sharrah’s height down to the ornate wainscoting and she remembered seeing similarly graffitied columns in the public area where Kin Kuul and Sir Deren were savoring their celebrity.
“The names in here are of the racers. You should add yours.”
“What about the names where they were?”
“Out there, the public pays tribute. For a gold coin, the king’s tenders will paint one’s name in the color of the dragon they favor.” Meifeng scoffed at the absurdity of it all.
A gold coin? Just to have their name painted in a fancy color? Sharrah had only even seen a gold coin once, when a man was buying a cartful of baked goods for his daughter’s wedding.
Not for the first time, Sharrah found herself jealous of Kin Kuul, and sad over how she treated him. She wondered if anyone had offered a gold coin as tribute to him and had their name painted in bright green.
What was she compared to a host of soupy lushes that would do anything just to get a taste of him? She chided herself for caring so much. He didn’t have feelings for her any more. So what if they once shared a moment? It obviously wasn’t special enough for him to forgive what happened in the race. It wasn’t like she’d intended to wash him out, anyway. Let him have all the attention and glory. He didn’t have to win. She did. And she was sure she had to stay focused to do it.
From a different door, a pair of white faced uniformed young women came rushing over to them. They wore black knee length garments under colorful matching aprons. The aprons boasted Prydonia’s crimson and gold dragon head emblem with a multi-rayed sun setting behind it. The array of yellows, oranges, and reds worked into the design, reminded Sharrah very much of her father’s wild eyes. And she decided that might have been intentional.
“Welcome racers,” one of the girls said after bowing to Meifeng.
The other bowed, too, and then smiled directly at Sharrah. “We are at your service.” She told her. “If you use the secondary gates when you come and go from the yard, as Master Meifeng knows, you can avoid all the fanatic hoppers. Would you like to refresh yourselves? A bath?”
Sharrah saw a third girl she hadn’t noticed before. She was dressed the same as these two, and standing against one of the columns. She must have been assigned to Kura. She looked like she very much wanted to sit down.
“I would like some food,” Sharrah said. “Meat and bread, and one of each kind of those tarts I saw in the kitchen.”
The girl who smiled at Sharrah bowed again and hurried off. “Tell her she can sit while he sleeps,” Sharrah told the other girl.
“Oh no, she can’t.” The girl shook her head, her huge almond shaped eyes full of what might have been fear. “We do not shirk our duty in such a way. The cost of doing so is heavy.”
“Do not worry about them,” Meifeng said to Sharrah. “They are ruled by Travvingto’s whip.” Then to the servant in front of her. “Make me a plate of vegetables and fowl, then prepare us both a hot bath." She turned her attention back to Sharrah. "This is how we help the poor girl, dear.”
Meifeng went to the table and woke Kura. The girl by the column seemed relieved and was happy to lead him to his room. Unlike she and Meifeng, who had a good night’s sleep and a long morning with Scorch and Sizzle before coming this way, Kura had been riding in a wagon, or maybe on horseback, since the ceremony back at Dragon’s Keep.
Sharrah wondered what would happen to Kura after she won? What would happen to all the servants King Travvingto ruled? What would happen to Guotin, and Aunt Sadie?
When the food arrived, she ate a little of everything. The soft well-seasoned meat she was served was far better than the sausage she snatched earlier. The bread and gravy were warm and delicious, and the tarts tasted just as good as they looked. The wine they drank was far more potent than it first seemed, and her worry was soon just as lost as she was. She barely remembered soaking in the tub before she wrapped herself in the soft, almasty fur robe Meifeng had given her. She didn’t remember falling asleep on silken sheets in the opulent room she was given either.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
“It’s going to be cold,” she heard Meifeng’s demanding voice. The vague memory of icy water splashing her face after hearing those same words came to her. “We are going to be late for presentation to the king. This is going to be cold, dear.”
“No.” Sharrah sat up but was splashed across the face with a small bit of water anyway.
“Put on the clothes Niu made for you. Pull back your hair. I will braid it properly before we race. Right now, we have to hurry.”
Meifeng, whose hair looked like a bird nest, hurried back to her room. She wasn’t ready either? Sharrah was grateful she had come to check on her. She saw there was more cold water at the vanity, and she drank deeply, right from the decanter. She finished getting ready about the same time Meifeng returned. The older dragon racer looked amazing.
Meifeng wore pantaloons similar to what she usually did, but her top was fine white-silver chain mail. The strap of her goggles was glowing, where they were strapped to her head, but resting above her eyes. She looked every bit a dragon racer.
In the mirror Sharrah saw herself. She was not so impressive. The thick leather pantaloons might keep her legs from being roasted, but they were heavy and uncomfortable. Already they were chafing at her inner thighs. Her deep blue halter was lined with hinged steel plates. The metal was cold against her skin. But Niu made the cups fit her so well that nothing was uncomfortable up top. In fact, everything was accentuated nicely.
Despite how well the clothes fit, Sharrah thought she looked like a child playing dress up. When Meifeng handed her a set of finely crafted, padded goggles, of course she had to try them on. As soon as she did, the strap glowed a deep radiant blue. The view through them was pristine. In the mirror, she saw from the outside the lenses were the exact same shade as Azure’s scales and so opaque that no one would be able to see her eyes. With them on, she felt oddly protected. As if the lenses shielded her emotion and projected what she thought was a slightly intimidating demeanor.
“You look stunning. Will you braid my hair?” Sharrah asked.
“I might find more of the glowing material and braid strips of that in.” Meifeng’s optimism was clearly forced. “Come. We are already late. Are you going to leave them on? You should.”
“Can I?” Sharrah nodded. “I’m afraid the king will see right through me.”
“There will be wager men there from across the spectrum. Not the men who bet on the outcome of races, but the men who make the odds for others who wager. A few dignitaries and his special guest, King Pankoo of Woxxa. The king will be so cordial it will creep your craw. Just keep your mouth shut.”
Sharrah was just about to ask if there was a place she could relieve herself when they came through a door, bursting into sunlight and saw that the king and his retinue had just entered from the other side. There were six dragon cages, three on each side, with a wide red carpet unrolled across the turf between them. Sharrah stood where Meifeng pointed her, in front of the not so large metal cage Azure was crammed into.
“We hoped you decided to do the honorable thing and quit because you are a danger.” Kin Kuul smarted from where he stood across from her.
“Not now,” Sir Deren snapped from his left. “Here comes Master Anshi.”
Sharrah saw the cage Soot the Black was crammed into. It wasn’t any bigger than Azure’s, in fact it looked so rickety he might be able to burst it apart if he wanted. Master Anshi jogged past Meifeng in silence, but when he passed Sharrah he said, “Watch your back,” in such a way that she couldn’t tell if it was a warning or a threat.
Her father, dressed again in his showy red robes talked about the dragons and the riders to the king and his guest as they strode slowly past Meifeng and Hen Huai. They spent a long time in front of Flame’s cage and all of them jumped when the angry red wyrm trumpeted his fiery breath at a pair of servants.
When the group came to stand before Sharrah, Luumin talked about Azure losing his rider, and how he was just now healing from the wounds he’d taken.
The king was wearing a shiny crimson kaftan and had several gold chains around his thick neck. She imagined he was a looker in his day, but now his limbs looked thin and brittle, and his belly like a soup pot. His eyes were dark and cruel, and he had wiry stray whiskers creeping up his cheeks away from his well-oiled beard. It felt like he was holding her eyes despite the lenses between them.
“Do you think you can win?” he asked her, his eyes crinkling into mirth. “Amiestro, show her my dolls,” he commanded. A man lifted the cover off what looked like a top hat box. There, in a fancy doll carrier, was Inula and Tam. Both of them stiff and unconscious, being held upright by the loose leather sleeves they were holstered in.
King Travvingto shook his smug head at her and laughed. “Since it is doubtful a new racer with a broken wyrm has a chance, I decided that if you do not win, you can have these dolls as a consolation prize.”
As the king stepped away, one of his men stepped right up behind her. “They are in a stasis.” He whispered into her ear. “If you win, they die.” The last was said so quietly that she barely heard it.
Another of the king’s men stepped in front of her. When she looked up, she saw it was handsome Prince Torrin. “Eliminate Kin Kuul,” he hissed under his breath. “If you let him finish, I will personally pluck their wings.”
Sharrah’s heart slipped into a desperate panic. What was she going to do? She couldn’t allow two innocent fairies to die? She couldn’t wash out or otherwise cause Kin Kuul to crash again either, could she? She was ashamed that she once gushed at the chance to meet Prince Torrin’s foulness.
She had to fight for each breath and was so lightheaded she feared she was about to faint. At least the king and his group moved on. She was left being studied by several dwarves, a few men, and what she thought might be a gnome.
Get it together, Luumin said into her mind. I saw. I will find a way to save them.
But how? They told me to—
Stop. His mental voice was stern. Do what you must to win.
The idea Inula and Tam had been taken to use as leverage just to make sure she lost was frightening. She wondered not who, but how many must already know their plan. She hoped her father was right, that her winning would make everything okay, but she felt it was the opposite. The king might kill everyone from Dragon’s Keep who couldn’t get away. And now Inula and Tam would perish if she won. She was starting to wonder if she could do it.
That is what he wants, her father’s mental voice was clipped short, drawing her attention to him. Ascend, no matter what happens. He rushed the words out. Win and ascend.
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