The Magical Flight of Dodie Rue (4 page)

Dodie heard his family's whoops of excitement as he climbed higher in the morning sky. The air was cool and fresh as it whipped through his hair and tunic. He had never ridden anything as fast and smooth as
Phoenix
.

He spent the next hour trying everything: turns, loops, takeoffs, landings, riding on his belly, riding up on his knees, riding on his back—he even tried threading.
Phoenix
skimmed walls and rooftops with no effort, and Dodie found his confidence in the carpet mounting. He had never had so much fun in his life. And best of all:

He didn't puke once.

Chapter 4

The rest of the day was spent in a frenzy as they got Dodie ready for the Grand Flyer. Nadar cut Dodie's hair very short, and got to work altering Taj's racing tunic to fit Dodie's much shorter and stockier body. Gamal serviced
Phoenix
with a good cleaning, dusting, and inspection. He also asked Lord Hadi if Dodie could replace Taj in their wager, and Hadi more than happily agreed. Dodie packed Taj's small waist pouch he would wear in the race: small knife, compass, hourglass, and map scrolls. He got Binni to make more potion for him to take. Then Dodie spent hours getting briefed on race tactics by Nadar.

“The Grand Flyer covers five hundred miles in three days,” said Nadar as he shuffled through the race maps on his lap. “This year's race starts just outside of town by the Wishing Well, and finishes just outside the south wall of the Capital. It crosses the Fringe, goes through the Dead Lands, and follows along the Siren Sea. You can expect sand storms, thieves, and ghouls, among other things.”

Dodie swallowed.

Nadar continued, “You must reach each check point by sunset of each day, or you will be disqualified. At each check point you will find fresh water, food, and a campsite to sleep. But don't sleep too soundly, for you can't trust anyone and you never know who or what might be lurking in the shadows waiting to rob you .
 . .
or worse.”

Dodie gulped.

“You are not allowed to leave the check point until sunrise of the next day or you will be disqualified. There are pit stops along the way where you can stop to get water and food. Fly within sight of other racers, for there is strength in numbers, but don't hesitate passing them to get ahead—use your judgment. Stay high enough to gain some lead, but don't fly too high or you'll get blown off course by the Boundary and be disqualified—trust
Phoenix
and let her set the pace.”

Dodie held his head in his hands and meant to grip his hair, but found it was too short now.

“The first racer to reach the Capital before sunset on the third day wins the genie's wish and the treasure.” Nadar added, “And the racer
must
be riding the carpet under his ownership.”

Dodie nodded, trying to remember everything he was being told. “Any other rules?”

“Well, females aren't allowed to race, but that doesn't apply to you,” Nadar chuckled. “Dodie, the most important thing to know about and the most dangerous aspect of this race is that out on the course there are no rules.”

Dodie looked up at his grandfather. “What?”

“There are no rules, no regulations. Anything goes. Use this to your advantage, both to win and to prove your character. Decide what kind of racer you will be.”

“What kind were you?”

Nadar shook his head. “You're not me.” He held out a small scroll to Dodie.

Dodie took it. The parchment was soft and dusty with age. Carefully he unrolled it to find a faintly drawn map. “Is this a map of the Grand Flyer?”

“Not exactly.” Nadar leaned closer and lowered his voice. “This is my own map of secrets I accumulated through the years during my races. Use it to your advantage, and don't let anyone else see it.”

Dodie tucked it inside his waist pouch. “Anything else I should know?”

Nadar looked down at him, his wrinkles creasing. “Know who you are. You are Dodie Rue astride
Phoenix
. You are racing for your brother's life.”

Dodie couldn't fall asleep, though it was well past midnight.

What had he gotten himself into? Why did he
ever
think that he could race in the Grand Flyer and even hope to win? What was he thinking when he told his family he would do it?

He looked over at Taj, now asleep on his side and breathing heavily.

He had only been thinking of saving Taj and his family's business, and it had given him a courage he had never known. He hoped that courage would stay with him when he took off at dawn.

Eventually Dodie awoke to Nadar nudging him. He had gotten only four hours of sleep, but it was better than nothing. He was already dressed in his racing clothes to save time. Nadar had done a good job of altering Taj's white linen tunic, leggings, and head mask, all of which had to be fitted skin-tight. Dodie could still smell his brother's scent on the clothes, and it comforted him. Before heading downstairs, Dodie stopped by Taj's bedside.

“Listen,” Dodie whispered softly as he grasped his brother's clammy hand. “
You're
supposed to be racing today, and
you're
supposed to be the next Rue legend—not me. I'm doing this for you. And if I win and make it back alive, I won't owe you another favor
ever
, got that?” He gave Taj's hand one last squeeze, and added, “I told you the Seer is a liar.”

His eye spotted the little good luck charm Taj had bought him. He grabbed it from the end table between their cots. When he noticed a tiny hold drilled into the top of the clay charm, he searched for a thread. He plucked a loose string from Taj's tunic and threaded it through the tiny hole. Then he tied the reddish charm around his neck, and slipped it beneath his tunic. It felt cool against his heart.

He bounded downstairs.

Gamal and Nadar were waiting for Dodie in the shop. No words were said. Gamal carried the rolled up
Phoenix
on his shoulder, and led them down the street. As they passed the alchemist's house, Binni joined them.

“Here's your dose for today,” said Binni in a hurried whisper. “It's good till sunset.”

Dodie threw back his head and gulped down the pink potion. It stung his throat.

As they neared the village gate, they joined a quiet crowd heading for the starting line. Dodie spotted Atallah and his father Lord Hadi walking with their heads held unnaturally high. The baker's son Randi
was fidgeting with his waist pouch with trembling hands. Axel showed up sporting a bruised and puffy face from his fight with Nye at the Magistrate's Banquet. Bae was already at the starting line over the hill.

A section for spectators had been roped off behind the starting line, which was marked by a long row of tall torches stuck in the sand. The firelight played an eerie game of shadows and light. Magistrate Oxard, along with the Magistrates from the other four villages, stood under a yurt snacking on grapes and waving to various people as they arrived. As more competitors and spectators joined, the crowd got louder and more excited.

And Dodie's heart thumped faster.

“We better say our farewells here,” said Nadar. “The racers will be lining up any minute now.” He grabbed Dodie in a smothering bear hug. Dodie inhaled his grandfather's scent, which was the same dusty smell of the carpet shop.

“You can do this,” Nadar said firmly, fixing Dodie with his eyes. “Keep Taj in your heart, your eyes ahead, and your grip on
Phoenix
.”

Dodie managed a half-hearted smile.

Gamal patted him on the back. “Be safe,” was all he said.

A loud gong sounded from the yurt where the Magistrates stood.

“That's the signal to line up,” Nadar told him. “Our village is on the left. Go!”

Dodie shouldered
Phoenix
, took one last look at his family, then turned and did not look back. He followed the other racers to the torch-lit starting line. On the left end he found Atallah and the other racers unrolling their carpets. Dodie unrolled
Phoenix
, and when he did, he heard an audible gasp from the crowd. This gasp soon rose to an uproar of excitement as the spectators and competitors recognized Dodie's legendary carpet.

Atallah noticed Dodie, and grimaced first at the flame-colored carpet and then at Dodie. He quickly masked his surprise. “Why are you bothering to race me? A glutton for punishment, huh?”

“I have to race,” said Dodie curtly, trying not to squirm from the whole crowd's attention on him.

“Your dad might as well sign over the emporium to my father,” Atallah continued with a nasty grin. “Don't worry—you can always be our servants when you're destitute.”

Dodie felt his face heating with anger.

Atallah chuckled and addressed the other racers. “I'd stay clear of him—he pukes when he flies.”

Randi inched away from Dodie.

The sky was lightening in the east, the stars fading like phantoms. The crowd grew restless with anticipation. More racers continued to line up and unroll their carpets behind the row of torches. Each racer rug had its own unique design and color scheme. Many were jewel-toned with elaborate gold or silver embellishments, but some stood out, especially
Phoenix
and a black and red carpet ridden by Nye.

Dodie's heart was now racing, his arms were tingling, and his stomach was churning. If he hadn't taken Binni's potion, he knew he would already be vomiting. He suddenly had an urge to run away and forget the whole race.

But he couldn't forget Taj. So he turned around, clenched his fists, and set his eyes on the east.

A second gong sounded, and all the racers mounted their carpets. Atallah adjusted his waist pouch so it rested on his lower back. Randi pulled on his head mask. Axel inhaled and exhaled several cleansing breaths. Bae whispered a prayer. Dodie gripped his carpet's loops.

All eyes fixed on the east where Turah lay. The sun was clearly rising, bathing the desert in new sunlight. The crowd was suddenly silent. The yurt flapped in a light breeze, and somewhere from the village a donkey brayed.

Any moment now the sun would peek above the rooftops.

Any moment now the magic carpets would shoot off in the blink of an eye.

Any moment now Dodie would be racing in the Grand Flyer.

He could feel the charm engraved with a flame pressed against his heart, and for the first time he wanted to believe in its good luck.

Dodie's breathing quickened. His palms were sweaty. He was worried about takeoff, about going fast enough, about not falling off. He also wasn't sure when exactly to take off. At the first sight of the sun, or when the whole sun had risen?

His eyes darted at the other racers on either side of him. He would just follow their lead for this first takeoff. Then he would—

Whoa!

A blast of wind and a cloud of sand engulfed him, blinding him. The crowd screamed and cheered. Dodie coughed and blinked his eyes open. He was the only one behind the torches.

Takeoff had happened.