by Greg Weisman
Malus growled, “One, at least, will never be part of Seven again.”
But the Voice of the Light only repeated, “Seven will become One.”
Makasa was holding Aram up. “Another vision?” she asked.
“Yeah,” he said breathlessly. He held the shards in one hand. Only they weren’t shards (plural) anymore.
“Learn anything?”
“Yeah.” Where the two shards had fit together, there was no longer any sign they had ever been apart; not even a seam was visible. The two were now one (and no longer glowing). Aram said, “I’m constructing something. Or … reconstructing something.” He looked up at her. “There are five more pieces. Five more shards.”
“Check the compass,” she said.
He did. The needle, which had also stopped glowing, was now pointing south. Not southeast anymore. Just south, directly south. He showed her. He showed them all. Then he took out his map of Kalimdor. Gadgetzan was directly south of the Speedbarge. “It still wants us in Gadgetzan,” he said.
“Then we leave tomorrow,” she said.
“After the race.” He wanted to be certain she knew he planned to honor that commitment.
“If the ogres have their way, there won’t be any ‘after’ to the race.”
“Then we’ll come up with a plan to make sure there is.”
Eight laps around the Speedbarge. That was all Aram had to do. He had his helmet on already, hoping against hope it would obscure his face and identity, hoping against hope that no ogre would spot or recognize him. But even at his most optimistic, he didn’t think that likely.
And he was right.
All eighteen speedboats were lined up for the race. All eighteen pilots had to cross a small gangway to board them. Makasa had asked if Aram could start the race in the boat with the carapace down so that he was never in clear view. But Gazlowe had explained that the gamblers liked to see the pilots walk to their machines, that many a last-minute wager was based on a pilot’s swagger.
Aram had said, “I have to swagger?”
Gazlowe had said, “No, boy. Let ’em all think you don’t stand a chance. I’ll pick up a little extra action that way. So I want you to act afraid.”
Now, Aram was thinking, It’s no act.
He crossed the gangway behind a goblin named Juliette, pilot of the purple-and-green Queen Mae, and ahead of Razzeric, pilot of the green-and-red Guzzler. He found himself strangely unstartled by the sound of the ogres’ horn, and surprisingly prepared for the pounding of their fast-approaching footsteps.
He looked up slowly. There was Throgg, at the head of a party of four or five more ogres, loping across the deck of the Speedbarge toward the gangway where Aram stood with the other seventeen pilots.
Fortunately, Gazlowe’s preparations, for once, worked like a charm. Steamwhistle’s sponsor had persuaded Fizzle and Pozzik that the small troop of ogres prowling about the Speedbarge was intent on disrupting the race. Since that was patently unacceptable, precautions were taken.
Before the ogres could reach the gangway, their path was blocked by Fizzle and Pozzik’s Brute Squad, ten enormous purple-skinned hobgoblins, known around the Speedbarge as mooks. Gazlowe had said, “They’re dumber than an ogre with a hangover, but they’ll do the trick.”
The Brute Squad had been given one order: don’t let the ogres anywhere near the pilots. And the mooks, each armed with a massive warhammer, seemed to have just enough brainpower to follow that order. Maybe.
Aram bit his bottom lip and held his breath …
Gazlowe watched the lead ogre pull up short, shoutin’ at the mooks to get “out of Throgg’s way!” He had a warhammer of his own, screwed onto his right wrist.
The mooks said nothin’. For the first time, Gazlowe noticed that the mooks’ two front teeth curled over their lower lips, even when their mouths were closed. Made ’em look like chipmunks. Giant mutated chipmunks. All they were missin’ were bushy tails.
Throgg said, “Hobgoblins move, or hobgoblins die.”
Behind the ogres, Gazlowe shouted, “They’re attackin’ the pilots!”
Raphael, a gnome Gazlowe had slipped a couple coppers to, shouted, “The ogres are trying to stop the race!”
That was all it took. The crowd began to turn ugly. Too many people on the Speedbarge had too many coins wagered on the race to risk ogre interference. And many of the biggest spenders had their own bodyguards, as well. This wasn’t just a crowd of curious spectators. There were paid mercenaries aboard: worgen and trolls and everything else. Two-Tusk had half his blasted pirate crew on-site.
Pozzik approached Throgg and said, “No one goes near the pilots before the race.”
Throgg said, “Throgg not no one. Throgg Throgg.”
Pozzik said, “Look around you, Throgg. You think you can take down my mooks, and maybe you can. But can you take down everyone on this barge? Cuz you take one more step, and we’ll have a riot on our hands.”
Throgg looked ready to risk a riot. But the lone female ogre leaned in and said, “Goblin say ogres no go near pilots before race. What about after?”
Pozzik shrugged. “Who cares about after?”
Gazlowe groaned audibly.
The female ogre whispered somethin’ in Throgg’s ear. He shook his head violently. She whispered somethin’ again. His shoulders sank. He scratched his forehead horn with the edge of his hammer. She whispered somethin’ more. He smiled and nodded. The ogres moved off. Throgg was unscrewin’ his hammer from his wrist.
So far, so good. Gazlowe turned to watch the start of the race …
Breathing hard, Thorne joined Sprocket, who helped him descend and buckle into the Steamwhistle. The gnome was about to shut the carapace when Thorne said, “Aren’t you going to wish me luck?”
Sprocket stared at the human and said, “You don’t need luck. You have my boat.” Thinking, Simpleton!—but not saying it, since at three whole syllables it would have taken too long—he closed the carapace on the boy.
Aram guided the boat up to the starting line on the north side of the Speedbarge, between the Queen Mae and the Guzzler. Daisy, looking lovely from her elevated perch atop a small raised barge, was standing in front of the largest speaking trumpet Aram had ever seen and holding a flag in one hand. With a flourish, she raised the flag high … and with another flourish brought it down!
The race was on!
Lap One.
From experience, Aram knew that Steamwhistle’s strength was not a fast start. Gunning the engine didn’t help. He’d build toward her top speed and keep building.
He took the first quarter turn in the middle of the pack, glad he hadn’t begun even farther toward the rear. The four slalom pylons on the eastern side of the Speedbarge were wide apart, and he took them easy, hugged them close, and made up some distance on the leaders, leaving one or two boats in his wake.
Then came the south-side straightaway, which really allowed him to pour it on. He was the stone skipping over Lake Everstill, in the moment, above the fray. (There were no thoughts of ogres or compasses now.) Aramar Thorne was free.
By the time he swerved around the Speedbarge to its western side and began maneuvering through its eight tight slalom pylons, he could see only three or four speedboats ahead of him.
And as the Steamwhistle curved back round to the straightaway on the northern side, he sped past the black-and-white Freebooters’ Fire. Steamwhistle came even with Daisy’s barge. Aram couldn’t make out the barkeep’s words over the roar of engines and water, but he spotted her up there, talking through the speaking trumpet …
Lap Two.
“Guzzler is in the lead, followed by Lightning Fish, Queen Mae, Steamwhistle, and Freebooters’ Fire.
“They’re taking the first turn and—goodness! Freebooters’ Fire is living up to its name! It’s literally on fire! Burst into flames! It’s slowing down, being passed by Annihilator and Swordfish! They’re all holding position through the first slalom and into the second turn.
“Queen Mae is challenging Lightning Fish on the far straightaway. They’re neck and neck for second place behind Razzeric’s Guzzler into the third turn.
“Mae seems to have the advantage on the tight slaloms; yes, she’s slipped past Lightning Fish for second place, into the fourth turn.
“Now, here on the northern straightaway, we have Guzzler, Queen Mae, Lightning Fish, Steamwhistle, Swordfish, and Annihilator, with Corkscrew coming up fast to join the front-runners!”
Lap Three.
Gazlowe liked what he saw. Okay, sure, he’d like it better if the kid was in the top three and guaranteed to finish in the money, but fourth wasn’t bad with three-quarters of the race still left to run. Plus, he liked that the admiral’s boat was already dead in the water, that Stormwind’s Pride had nothing to be proud of, and that Kessel’s Run was runnin’ dead last and bein’ lapped by the frontrunners.
He liked how the kid took the turns, tight and sweet. Liked how his machine was handlin’ the slaloms on the east and west sides.
And he liked how it was makin’ small gains on the three tubs in the lead durin’ every straightaway …
Lap Four.
“Steamwhistle is making a move, trying to get out of fourth and right into second by passing Mae and Lightning Fish. But the other two have Steamwhistle boxed out, while Guzzler increases her lead on the northern straightaway.
“At the turn, it’s Guzzler in first, Mae and Fish neck and neck in second again, and Steamwhistle still in fourth, putting some distance between those top four and the rest of the pack. In fifth place, Corkscrew leads a clump of machines that include Swordfish, Annihilator, and Raptor’s Revenge in sixth, seventh, and eighth.
“The frontrunners have taken the second turn, lapping five or six also-rans on the southern straightaway.
“Coming out of the third turn, it looks like Raptor’s Revenge is trying to cut off Annihilator into the slalom, and—OHHHHH!!! Raptor’s Revenge has annihilated the Annihilator, which has crashed into the first western pylon. Revenge is spinning out to avoid the wreckage. Trying to recover … It’s back in the race! Oh, but it’s been passed by both Pollywog and Death-Machine!
“At the halfway point now, it’s still Guzzler in first, Queen Mae in second, Lightning Fish in third, and Steamwhistle in fourth!”
Lap Five.
Sprocket didn’t like what he saw. This was why he should have been the pilot. Thorne was too inexperienced. He’d allowed himself to be boxed out of the lead by Mae and Fish.
The leper gnome watched the boats take the first turn and lost sight of his Steamwhistle as it entered the eastern slalom still in fourth. He waited now, struggling to follow Daisy’s voice through the speaking trumpet. But between the distortion of the trumpet and that of his own containment suit, he couldn’t clearly make out what she was saying, so he turned to the west so he could see the frontrunners as soon as they emerged from the far side of the Speedbarge into view.
Turning, he saw the ogres milling about the dock that would soon act as the winner’s circle, where the trophy and the prize money would be handed out. That lead ogre was screwing a pike appliance onto his stump. Sprocket’s mouth twitched. He briefly acknowledged to himself that they were there to grab up—and probably kill—Thorne. Well, if the boy didn’t take the lead, Sprocket might just kill Thorne himself.
The first boat came into view. It was blue! Thorne had done it! No, wait, that wasn’t a red stripe. It was gold. Stormwind’s Pride?! How did Pride take the lead? No, no. There was the green Guzzler lapping Pride. That made more sense. Razzeric’s machine was always going to be the one to beat. The one for Steamwhistle to beat. If she wasn’t still stuck behind Mae and Fish!
Lap Six.
“Guzzler is out front and increasing her lead. Queen Mae and Lightning Fish are still vying for second and boxing out Steamwhistle. But if one of those second-placers doesn’t make a move soon, they’re basically giving the race to Guzzler.
“At the turn, it looks like Mae may have heard me … She’s making her move on the inside, speeding ahead of Lightning Fish for the second time, and—oh, that was the break Steamwhistle needed! She’s slipped past Lightning Fish into third place! She’s taking the eastern slalom very tight and is right on Mae’s tail at the turn!
“Steamwhistle has pulled up even with Queen Mae on the straightaway, but Guzzler is already making the third turn. Lightning Fish is in fourth. Pollywog is now in fifth. Corkscrew in sixth, with Raptor’s Revenge, Swordfish, and Death-Machine in seventh, eighth, and ninth. That’s half the field. The rest of the boats either are no longer running or have been lapped at least once by the frontrunners.
“We’re on the tight western slalom now, and … Steamwhistle is running it tighter than Queen Mae. Steamwhistle’s pulled into second! But Guzzler has a pretty impressive lead at this point.
“At the end of lap six, the race’s three-quarter mark, it’s Guzzler in first by four entire lengths, Steamwhistle in second, just ahead of Queen Mae. Followed by Pollywog, Lightning Fish, and Corkscrew in fourth, fifth, and sixth.”
Lap Seven.
Aram’s heartbeat was now in perfect synch with the steam pump. He no longer felt like he was piloting the Steamwhistle—he felt like he was the Steamwhistle! He could see the green boat, Guzzler, up ahead. Too far up ahead. He opened up the throttle and thought he gained a little before the turn.
Now came the first slalom. He took it so tight and fast, he could literally hear the pylons buzz past like hornets.
The southern straightaway. He and she—Aram and Steamwhistle—were giving it all they had, and it was paying off. Now, he was positive they’d gained on the green. It was looming larger, closer, bellowing dark clouds behind it.
By the end of the second slalom, they were practically riding up the Guzzler’s stern. That was good—but not good enough.
They took the northern straightaway, drafting in the green boat’s slipstream. But drafting wasn’t passing. Jumping the lead boat’s wake, they still couldn’t get around her. Guzzler was bigger, had more muscle. Aram knew they’d only get one shot at this …
Lap Eight.
“As we go into the final lap, it’s Guzzler in first with Steamwhistle right behind in second. Queen Mae is three lengths behind them both in third. Corkscrew is … three more lengths behind Mae in fourth, with Pollywog and Lightning Fish in fifth and sixth. The rest are either out or too far behind to seriously vie for even third prize. They’re taking the turn …
“Guzzler has the power, but Steamwhistle seems to have the greater maneuverability, using the slaloms to catch up and keep close. Guzzler seems to be taking a conservative tack here, using her bulk to keep Steamwhistle from passing. That worked for Mae and Lightning Fish, until they gave the sleek little boat an opening. Will history repeat … ? Well, not so far; they’ve taken the second turn with no change to the standings …
“And the southern straightaway tells the same story. Steamwhistle cannot get around Guzzler. Third turn now …
“Heading into the final slalom of the day, and … oh, that doesn’t look good! Big mistake there. Steamwhistle has gone very wide on the first pylon. Don’t see how she can cut in time to make the second—and OHHH, she did it, pulling just inside of Guzzler. My friends, that was no mistake of Steamwhistle’s; that was strategy! They are coming out of the slalom with Steamwhistle no longer trapped behind Guzzler as they head into the final turn and race for the flag …
“Steamwhistle has cut inside on the turn and has pulled up even! They are neck and neck, heading for the finish line! It’s Guzzler and Steamwhistle! It’s Guzzler and Steamwhistle! It’s Guzzler and Steamwhistle! IT’S STEAMWHISTLE!!! THE WINNER IS STEAMWHISTLE!!!”
Lap Nine.
“Steamwhistle is taking a well-earned victory lap around the Speedbarge. Yes, Steamwhistle has won the Annual Fizzle and Pozzik’s Speedbarge Boat Race! Guzzler takes second place; Queen Mae, third.
“All three winners are taking a
leisurely wind-down spin around the Speedbarge. Let’s see. In third place, the Queen Mae was sponsored by Dracos, engineered by Hildy Bufferpolish, and piloted by the Speedbarge’s own Juliette. They’ll each take home a nice little purse today.
“Now, Guzzler was sponsored, engineered, and piloted by Razzeric. You know, folks, even taking second, he may just take home more gold than anyone, since he won’t have to share! No? Ha-ha! I can hear you from here, Gazlowe!
“That’s right. Steamwhistle’s sponsor, Gazlowe, is telling me I’m not taking the wagering into account. True. True. Where was I? Oh, yes. Steamwhistle was engineered by Gimble Sprysprocket, known as Sprocket to his friends. And her pilot is the amazing Aramar Thorne.
“And here comes Aramar and the Steamwhistle now …”
The Steamwhistle cut its engines and glided up to the winner’s circle. Almost before it had come to a stop, Throgg and Karrga were there, with Guz’luk, Slepgar, and the Beard Brothers watching their backs for hobgoblins.
Throgg’s pike-hand stabbed into the carapace (and Sprocket shouted in horror, almost as if the pike had stabbed into his chest). The spiked carapace was ripped free and flung away, exposing the helmeted individual inside. With his left hand, Throgg yanked the young speedboat pilot out of the cockpit by the scruff of his neck, growling into his terrified face, “Now, Aramar Thorne belong to Throgg …”
Long-Beard lean in over shoulder of Throgg and say, “Aramar Thorne not what Long-Beard expect.” Short-Beard whap his brother on nose.
Lap nine was the key. Lap nine and the amazingly brave little Hotfix.
It had all been planned in advance, of course. But no one made Hotfix volunteer. That he did on his own—even against Daisy’s wishes (though she was prepared to do her part, as well).
Gazlowe cooperated, too—on the prior condition that Aram actually win the race.
