pounded around the track—the sound extinguished the roar of the wind and the cheers of the crowd. Gette on his spider had pulled ahead of the pack.
“Run!” she urged the black lion. Run!
Around her, the other riders were screaming at their kehoks, forcing them faster, faster. She saw them out of the corner of her eyes: bits of nightmares so very close around her. She felt the heat from their bodies as they ran. The smell of their sweat clogged the back of her throat.
She wanted to escape them. She couldn’t help it. Every inch of her wanted out of here.
As the other kehoks jostled against the black lion, slamming into Raia’s legs, she only felt it more strongly. Out, out, out, her blood thrummed. And the black lion faltered.
In that moment, the other racers shoved past them.
The black lion stopped in the middle of the track.
Sand settled around them. The thunder receded as the racers rounded the corner. “Oh, no, no, no! You have to run!” Raia shouted at the black lion.
He pawed the dirt and eyed the walls.
The walls were much taller on this track than the practice track, and they were crowned with stands full of people. She met Trainer Verlas’s eyes. I’m disappointing her. I’m failing!
She couldn’t fail. There was too much to lose. . . . Don’t think about the future. Think about now! “You want out of this race?” Raia shouted at her kehok. “Then win it! The only way out is through!”
His muscles were quivering.
She leaned forward to make certain the black lion could hear her. “You don’t want to run with them? Good. So don’t. Run beyond them!” The open sands were beyond the pack of racers.
He heard her.
Slamming the dirt beneath his paws, he began to run. Faster. She leaned against his mane and clung to him, her eyes straight ahead at the pack of racers. “Run through them!”
Low to the ground, he shot forward. She heard the wind in her ears, displaced by the thunder of the other racers’ hooves. Ahead was a cloud of sand, and she urged him faster. She closed her eyes as they met the cloud and plunged inside. All around her she heard the screams, smelled the sweat, but she kept pushing him faster, faster.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a lizard snap at them, lunging with its jaws, and the black lion veered to the side, bashing against another kehok, then running on. Raia kept her body scrunched as small as possible, shielded by his metal mane. Head down, she focused only on the sand before them.
They passed another racer, then another, and then another. The pack of kehoks smashed together behind them as they rounded the next turn of the track.
Four more ahead of them.
She could see the finish line, the flags waving above it, red against the blue sky, murky through the cloud of sand. They passed another racer. And then another.
Ahead there were only two left: a silver spider and a blue lizard.
“You’re faster,” Raia told the black lion. “Show them you’re faster!”
His muscles strained as he pushed faster. And in that instant, Raia felt what Trainer Verlas had been telling her about over and over: the moment. She felt as if every inch of her skin was aware—of the lion beneath her, the clothes against her skin, the sand pelting her cheeks. She saw every color at once, heard every noise. In those precious seconds, there was nothing but the race. She and the black lion were flying across the sands, part of the wind, part of the world. And she knew they could not lose. . . .
Until the silver spider crossed the finish line first, followed by the blue lizard. And the black lion, with Raia—destroyed, distraught, disgraced—thundered across the finish line in third place.
Officials swarmed the racetrack and around the kehoks. Assistant handlers leaped onto the sands and raced to their assigned racers. Shackles were attached, chains looped around the monsters while the kehoks fought, fueled by the exhilaration of the race and their desire to kill.
It was chaos, but a controlled kind of chaos—race officials always ensured that the kehoks were stabled as quickly as possible, to minimize any chance of accidents.
On the black lion, Raia saw it all swirl around them. The lion’s sides were heaving, but he wasn’t fighting her like the others were their riders. We lost. She felt numb. If they hadn’t stopped, if she hadn’t lost focus .