The Magical Flight of Dodie Rue (11 page)

“They are,” confirmed Dodie, “except against fire with magical properties. Nye definitely has a connection with an alchemist—a very powerful one. We better hang back.”

“I guess it's better to be safe than first at checkpoint tonight,” grumbled Zinnia.

They kept a few yards between themselves and Atallah and Nye.

The sun was no longer visible in the sky, for it was lowering in the west. The clouds had cleared, and the wind had died down. The towering canyon walls shaded them, and blocked their view of the sun in the west, but they were able to tell by the purple hue of the sky that sunset was starting. Soon the Pass widened and they could see the end a few miles in the distance. Atallah and Nye were far ahead, racing neck in neck to the checkpoint. Dodie rode beside Zinnia, keeping an eye on the other racers behind him.

Suddenly, Dodie felt queasy. He felt himself swaying, even though
Phoenix
was flying steady. There wasn't much in his stomach, but he wanted to throw up. He made the mistake of looking down, and his eyes crossed. He was still a ways from the checkpoint, and knew it was only a matter of minutes before Binni's potion had completely worn off.

“You okay?” Zinnia asked beside him.

“No,” Dodie croaked. “Potion's run out.”

“Take some more.”

“I .
 . .
can't
. . .
” Dodie groaned, closing his eyes for a minute, but that seemed to make him sicker. “I've got one more dose .
 . .
for tomorrow.”

“Get your mind off it,” Zinnia told him. “Come closer.” She reached out her hand and grabbed
Phoenix's
front tassel. “I've got you. Breathe and try to relax. Push past your fear.”

Dodie put his head down on his carpet and inhaled and exhaled deeply and slowly. That was helping.

“Fix your eyes on something constant,” Zinnia instructed.

Dodie turned his head and locked his eyes on her. Everything around him went out of focus as he kept his gaze on her. His stomach settled down. He pulled off his head mask, and felt the refreshing evening breeze. His hands stopped shaking.

“You're great at flying,” said Zinnia, keeping her eyes ahead. “I think you could overcome your fear with some time.”

“I've actually been enjoying it,” Dodie admitted. “The Seer said someday I will overcome my fear—but I don't believe her. She also said Taj would be victorious.”

“We're almost there—don't look ahead!” Zinnia warned when she noticed Dodie start to turn his head. “Keep your eyes on me!”

Dodie did as he was told, though he didn't need much persuasion. He kept breathing in and out, in and out, and kept staring at her.

Suddenly, they dropped and stopped. He lay a minute on his carpet and watched Zinnia dismount. Slowly, he lifted his head and saw the checkpoint before him and Quillian's Pass behind. In the west, the sun dipped below the horizon.

“Thanks,” he told her. “I wouldn't have made it.”

Zinnia smiled with her eyes. “We're in this together, right?”

Dodie smiled weakly and didn't know what to say.

Chapter 11

The checkpoint was a little oasis of palm trees clumped around a shallow pool of rainwater. A large bonfire lit the oasis, and one small yurt housed the five officials and provisions. By now, only six of the original twenty-five racers had made it: Dodie and Zinnia, Atallah and Nye, and Randi and Bae. Everyone else had either been lost in the sandstorm or had arrived at the checkpoint after sunset and been disqualified. A part of Dodie couldn't believe he was still in the running, and another part of him chided himself for doubting he could win this race. After all, he had no choice—he
had
to win this Grand Flyer.

The racers gathered around the bonfire, kicked off their sandals, pulled off their head masks, and hungrily devoured the baskets of chicken, pita bread, hummus, and dates. Of course Zinnia kept her mask on and sneaked bites behind it, despite Atallah's glares of suspicion. Dodie kept his eye on Atallah and Nye sitting across the bonfire from him and braced himself for a confrontation. His face was feeling better, but the thought of taking more swings made him cringe. Still, he was determined to protect Zinnia's secret.

The officials summoned Atallah for an interview with the Wishing Well since he had come in first to the checkpoint. Atallah strutted off.

After dinner, Dodie laid down, resting his head on his rolled up carpet, and felt very satisfied and sleepy. He gazed up at the sprinkle of stars winking between the palm fronds, and felt heavy drowsiness overtaking him. If he could just rest his eyes for a minute .
 . .
he was so tired
. . .

He heard a shuffle beside him and jolted awake. Zinnia plopped down on the sand.

“You falling asleep?” she asked quietly. “We won't get much tonight. Our last day starts at midnight.”

“Midnight! I thought we always take off at dawn.” Dodie propped himself up on his elbows to look at her.

Zinnia shook her head. “As if this race isn't hard enough, they gotta throw in racing in the dark.”

“How do we stay on the course?” asked Dodie, his voice tight with panic. “How do we know which direction to fly without the sun?”

“Well, you can use your compass,” Zinnia said with a patronizing look.

Dodie felt his cheeks turn red. “Oh, yeah, right.”

“But it will be trickier,” added Zinnia quickly. “And more dangerous. Especially with those two.” She nodded toward Atallah and Nye who had their heads together in a hushed conversation. “We gotta stick together.”

Dodie sat up and pulled out the race course map. By the firelight he saw the first leg of the race would be across a barren desert called the Phantom Plains, then the last leg to the Capital would be along the Siren Sea. He was excited about that part, for he had never seen the ocean.

Zinnia stood up. “I'm gonna get some water.” She trudged over to the shallow pool by the yurt.

Hastily, Dodie fished out his grandfather's secret map and took a look. There was one note for the Phantom Plains (
Two are better than one)
, but the coastal trek had two warnings:
heed not the siren's song,
and
hands off anything that shines
. As always, they didn't make much sense, but Dodie knew they would when he was in the moment of needing them.

“Why do you have two maps?” asked Zinnia as she returned.

Dodie started. “Oh, uh, just an extra race map.”

Zinnia sat down next to him and leaned over to look at it. “So that's how you knew about those caves in the canyon.”

“Do you think this is cheating?” he held up his grandfather's map.

Zinnia shrugged. “There are no rules. Can I see it?”

Dodie hesitated slightly, then handed it over.

Zinnia scooted closer to the firelight to study it.

“What've you got there?” called Atallah from the other side of the bonfire.

Dodie panicked. “I thought you were asleep.”

“Never underestimate your opponent.” Atallah stood up and started for them.

Dodie snatched the map from Zinnia and started stuffing it into his waist pouch, but Atallah was on him quicker than he expected. The two boys hit the sand, toppling over each other as one tried to steal the map and the other tried to protect it.

R-i-i-i-p-p
!

“No!” cried Dodie as he broke away from Atallah, half the map in his fist.

Atallah stood panting, the other half of the map in his fist. Without even looking at it, he tossed it into the fire.

“What's wrong with you?!” screamed Dodie, smoke from the burning map stinging his eyes. “You're such a rat!”

“You're such a fraud!” Atallah shot back. “You gotta be put in your place—which should be no place at all in this race. I knew you couldn't be doing this on your own. Now you'll have to.” He nodded at the charred remains of the map in the flames. “Go home to the rats.” He returned to the other side of the bonfire.

Dodie plopped down next to Zinnia.

“I'm sorry,” she whispered, lightly touching her shoulder to his.

“My grandfather gave me this map. It was his.” He fingered the scrap of dusty paper, then hid it away in his waist pouch. “I'll take the first watch. Get some sleep.”

“You sure?” When he didn't answer, she lay down on her side facing him.

Dodie could feel her eyes on him as he stared into the blazing flames. A log snapped and he watched the sparks waft up to the sky. He wanted to talk with her—about what he didn't know—but she needed to sleep. As Zinnia drifted off, Dodie's thoughts drifted away.

He thought about her, wondering why he was so drawn to her. Maybe it was their mutual empathy for each other, having both lost their mothers and now both losing another dear family member—Taj and her father. Or maybe it was their desperation to win the Grand Flyer to save someone they loved. Dodie realized they had a lot in common, including the same fierce courage that prompted them both to enter a race they had no right to be in.

He thought about Taj. He was sad not only over Taj's fading life, but over Taj's missed chance to race in the Grand Flyer. For the past five years, Taj ate, slept, and breathed racing. He was physically designed for it with his long, lean frame and strength. And he was so good at it. Dodie imagined Taj whipping across the dunes, outrunning the sandstorm, and threading all over Atallah. Taj would have had the time of his life, and undoubtedly would have won the Grand Flyer. He would have saved the family from financial ruin and carried on the Rue racing legacy.

So unlike Dodie. Even if Dodie won, which would make his family more grateful than proud, he wouldn't be the Rue joining the racing legacy. Taj would have raced because it was in his blood and he wanted to. Dodie was racing because he
had
to. Sure, his secret dream had always been to be a racing Rue like his grandfather and his brother. Now he
was
racing, but he couldn't think of himself as a racer.

He felt like a fraud.

And he didn't need Atallah to point it out to him; he already knew it.

The only reason he was able to stay on a carpet was because of a pink potion. Without Binni's potion, he would still be the Rue who had a fear of flying. No, he couldn't call himself a proper racer, and racing would never be his thing.

He just had to win this one Grand Flyer, then he would go back to being the Rue everyone knew him to be. That was fine. At least he wouldn't have to catch rats for sheks anymore. The prize money would take care of that.

Dodie glanced at Zinnia who was asleep. He wondered if they would stay friends after the Grand Flyer, after they returned to their villages and he went back to being flightless. He wondered what she would say about him, if she would tell everyone about the potion he drank, or if she would be more generous and tell about how he got her back in the race with a stardust burst.

He sighed. He couldn't believe how selfish he was, worrying over Zinnia when his brother's life hung in the balance. He needed to keep his head in the game. He needed to win and wish for Taj's life.

Dodie stood up and stretched. He didn't like these thoughts in his head, even if he believed they were true. He suddenly felt down. He was exhausted, and his face was sore. He was worried about Taj. He wanted to be done. He just wanted everything to be all right again.

The other racers were asleep, so Dodie thought there would be no harm in leaving Zinnia for a minute to get a drink of water. He knelt by the pool and dipped his hand into the cool water. He cupped his hand to his mouth and sipped, and felt better.

He returned to Zinnia and let her sleep another two hours. He guessed it had to be around ten when he woke her.

“You let me sleep too long!” she hissed. “You're gonna get barely two hours of sleep.”

“It's okay.” Dodie lay down.

“You better not be dead weight on me.”

“Don't worry.” With a yawn, he was out.

He dreamed a collage of images. First, he dreamed of a man squatting in a corner of a dark and dirty room. He looked haggard and underfed. He poured a bright green liquid from a glass bottle into a clay bowl. Green smoke
poofed
. A cobra reared up from the bowl and slithered away.

Then he dreamed about the Seer. She sat rocking back and forth, her body and face shrouded in black fabric. She raised her voice and cried,

“
You will triumph over
both soul and body and have a change of heart.

At journey's end you will be victorious and find more than you seek.”

“It's almost midnight.”

Dodie jerked awake, and sat up. He blinked at the lazy fire. Around him the other racers were strapping on their sandals and pulling on their head masks. Zinnia ignited
Amethyst.

“Oh no,” moaned Dodie.

“What's the matter?”

“My potion is only good for twelve hours.”

“So?”

“If I take it now, it will wear off around noon. Will we be done with the race by then?”

“No, it goes till sunset. You only have one more dose?”

Dodie rolled his eyes. “I didn't know we'd be starting at midnight!”

“How were you planning on flying home without more?”

Dodie stared at her blankly. “Honestly, I haven't thought that far ahead. All I care about is saving Taj right now! And now I won't be able to!”

“Calm down. Take it now, and when it wears off I'll help you again.”

“Then I
will
be dead weight! There's no way either of us will win!”

“A lot can happen along the way,” argued Zinnia. “You never know our luck—we could end up being the only two racers left at the end.”

Dodie held his head in his hands. “I can't believe this!”

“Pull yourself together!” snapped Zinnia. “You still have one dose, and you still have your nerve. Don't think about it and just fly!”

Dodie took a deep breath. “Okay, okay.” He dug out the small vial and gulped down the pink potion. He chucked the vial into the fire, then pulled on his head mask. “
Phoenix
.”

The magic carpet stretched out, her red, orange, and blue colors matching the fire, and her gold embellishments shining in the light. Dodie mounted the carpet and sailed to the edge of the oasis where the other racers had lined up. Apparently there had been no award for arriving first at this checkpoint, for both Atallah and Nye were still there. The five race officials stood on either end of the line of racers, their hands up in the air. Dodie and Zinnia parked on the end. Dodie bent over and gripped the braided loops. Ahead of him stretched the vast barren desert, blue and shadowy in the moonlight.

“You will reach a pit stop around dawn,” one official told them. “And the last one around noon. Take heart, and may the best racer win.”

The air was thick with tension as the racers watched for the signal to go. All was still and silent.