The Magical Flight of Dodie Rue

by F. C. Shaw

  Far below racers were dodging flames and heading for the dune range. The swarm of colorful dragons was thinning as they returned to their metal boxes. The merchants must have decided they had enough carpets and didn’t want to lose their dragons in the dune range. Soon the sky was clear and the caravan continued on its journey west.

  Dodie felt empowered. He had just fought off fire-breathing dragons!

  The nearer he flew to the dune range, the larger the dunes were. They were the size of mountains, and stretched as far as the eye could see from east to west. The check point lay on the other side of the range. At the foot of the sandy mountains, everyone halted.

  Dodie couldn’t remember what Taj had said about the dune range. He remembered Taj studying the course map, and preparing himself for all the hazards along the way, but Dodie hadn’t really paid attention. Why would he? He never imagined he’d be in the Grand Flyer atop a racer rug, staring up at these towering sand dunes.

  Atallah whipped off his head mask, shook out sand, and put it back on. Axel pulled out a tangle of ropes and proceeded to tie his legs and arms to his carpet’s tassels. Bae sent a prayer up to heaven. Zinnia took out a small brass compass and tied it to her rug’s braided loops.

  Dodie wasn’t sure what to do, so he spread open his grandfather’s secret map, hoping there was something helpful concerning the dune range. Next to the small drawing of the sandy mountains was scrawled Ride the tail for smooth passage. He stuffed the map back into his waist pouch, and joined the group as they took off again for the dunes.

  The wind grew steadily stronger as they entered the range. By the time Dodie had reached the range’s summit, he was having quite a time staying on his carpet, for the wind was so gusty. He held on tightly as the gusts jostled him from side to side, and sometimes even from behind. The going was slow.

  Suddenly a shadow passed directly overhead, and Dodie looked up. Gliding smoothly above him was a creature Dodie had heard rumors about but had never dreamed he’d see. The creature had an impressive wingspan of black feathers, and had sharp front talons. Its head, with acute amber eyes and a hooked beak, resembled an eagle’s. The rest of its body was sleek and muscular, resembling a bronze furred lion. Its back legs were tucked up and a long tail trailed behind.

  A gryphon.

  The gryphon glided effortlessly above him, and soon was passing over Dodie with not so much as a ruffled feather.

  Nadar’s clue suddenly made sense, and Dodie knew it was telling him to follow the gryphon. But Dodie remembered the legends about gryphons being fierce warriors that guarded treasures. They were called kings of the animals. Those razor talons, sharp beak, and powerful hind legs defended that title. No wonder the dragons had turned away from the dune range, for they were mortal enemies to gryphons. Dodie was not in a hurry to trail such a beast.

  The wind grew stronger, and while Dodie struggled to stay atop his carpet and plow through, he noticed the gryphon flew with ease. Dodie climbed up, the wind battering him from all angles.

  Then the wind was gone. The gryphon was sailing on a smooth jet stream above the tumultuous wind. Dodie followed behind at a safe distance. He cast his eyes below to watch his competitors battling the gale. They were getting further behind.

  He continued to follow the gryphon through the dune range, and was starting to get drowsy again when the gryphon veered west. Dodie sat up straighter. The checkpoint was north on the other side of the dunes, so he kept his course straight while the gryphon turned left.

  “Ahhh!” Dodie wailed as a forceful gust of wind slammed him.

  Quickly he veered left and followed the gryphon to the west. He was back on the peaceful air current. This gryphon clearly knew the smoother path, so Dodie stayed with him. Occasionally the gryphon would zigzag east and west, or glide a few feet higher or lower, and Dodie kept right with him.

  At one point the gryphon opened his hawk beak and screeched. Dodie tensed and readied himself to make a dive should the gryphon notice him and attack, but the gryphon continued on without glancing behind him.

  The red sun hung low on the western horizon, and soon slipped behind the dunes. Dodie started to worry he wouldn’t make it to the checkpoint before sunset. He had lost sight of his competitors an hour ago, and hoped they were still behind him. Maybe if he was the first one to reach the checkpoint, even if it was after sunset, he would be spared disqualification. He doubted it though, since checkpoint rules were really the only strict rules of the Grand Flyer.

  The air felt cooler, and the sky had turned from blue to deep purple.

  And then Dodie saw it: the checkpoint. On a sandy plain beyond the dunes, campfires and tents made a merry welcome. Another mile and he and the gryphon had cleared the dune range. The gryphon soared east, while Dodie zoomed for the checkpoint. As he glanced west, the sun kissed the horizon.

  Dodie’s stomach churned. He didn’t know why he was so nervous, he was almost there. He would make it.

  His middle gave a sickly lurch and started convulsing. And then it dawned on him: Binni’s potion had run its course.

  “Al . . . most . . . there . . .” he said through gritted teeth, thinking that would keep the vomit down.

  His head got dizzy. His hands turned clammy. His stomach was erupting. His fear was back.

  With one last burst of speed, he slid into the checkpoint and tore off his head mask. He didn’t hear the applause from the race officials.

  He was busy throwing up.

  Chapter 7

  Once Dodie was able to stand upright without feeling dizzy, he found himself encircled by a group of race officials, their faces beaming at him in the fading daylight. They wore long robes of loud colors like orange, turquoise, scarlet, yellow, and lime green. There were five in all, one representing each competing village. The official from Dodie’s village, who he recognized as Oban one of the Magistrate’s counselors, came forward and shook both his hands at once. He was dressed in turquoise robes.

  “Well done!” Oban smiled as he kept shaking Dodie’s hands. “You are the first racer to reach the checkpoint tonight!”

  “Name please?” an official in orange asked. He poised a quill above parchment.

  “Rue,” answered Dodie, feeling his arms were about to fall off from the enthusiastic hand shaking.

  “Of course! You’re a Rue—no wonder you placed first today. Great start to the race, Taj!”

  Dodie’s face fell. “Oh, I’m not Taj.”

  The two officials peered closer at him.

  “By the gods, you’re not!” said Oban.

  “I’m confused, who are you?” asked the orange official.

  “I’m Dodie. Taj is my older brother. He’s . . .” Dodie swallowed down a lump in his throat he had not expected. “. . . very ill. I’m racing for him.”

  The group of officials whispered amongst themselves. For a moment Dodie felt nervous they might disqualify him, throwing some rule at him about riding in another racer’s stead.

  Oban turned to him. “We are very sorry about your brother and wish him health.”

  “Good luck in the remainder of the race, young Rue,” the official in orange winked at him.

  At that moment, two racers dove into the checkpoint, followed closely by a few others. Dodie tried to see who they were, but the gray light and campfire shadows made it hard to distinguish people. He did spot Atallah whipping off his head mask.

  “What place? First?” he panted at the officials.

  “Second place, well done!”

  “Second? Who was first?” he demanded, his hands on his hips.

  “Dodie Rue!”

  Atallah gaped at Dodie. “What! I didn’t see you anywhere. How did you get here first?”

  Dodie shrugged, enjoying the moment. “I know a few tricks.”

  Atallah got in his face and narrowed his eyes. “I know a few tricks,
too. You better watch your back.” He stalked away.

  “You’re a target now,” a voice behind Dodie said.

  Dodie turned and smiled at Zinnia. “Guess people’ll start taking me seriously in this race.”

  “So should you.” Zinnia walked off to a campfire.

  The sun had disappeared and early stars were waking. Two late racers glided into the checkpoint, and were disqualified. Dodie felt a huge lift in his spirits having not only qualified for another day, but having earned first place. He started to believe that he might even win this race.

  But he still had two more days, and the stress sent wiggles through his gut.

  “Rue!” Oban beckoned to him. “Listen, arriving first place at the checkpoint warrants you a special advantage.”

  Dodie straightened up. “Really? I didn’t know that! What is it?”

  “You are allowed to take off earlier tomorrow. I will wake you just before sunrise.”

  Dodie smiled.

  “Best of luck to you. Get some rest tonight.” Oban joined his comrades in a large yurt.

  The officials’ yurt, stationed next to a stone well, stood in the center of the checkpoint with small campfires encircling it. Racers sat in twos and threes, mostly with their village kinsmen, around campfires, swapping stories of the day. All of them, except for Zinnia, had their head masks off. Some washed their faces and necks with water from the well, while others kicked off their sandals. Everyone kept his racer rug rolled up right next to him. Soon the officials passed out cups of goat’s milk and baskets of bread, roasted lamb, and dates to the racers.

  Now that Dodie’s stomach had emptied and settled down, he was famished. At first he wasn’t sure where to sit, or who to sit with. He found the other racers from Turah at one campfire and joined them. Atallah was already telling a much embellished story of his day to the others. He smirked as Dodie plopped down in the sand, and opened his mouth to say something.

  “Shut it, Atallah,” Dodie snapped. “Nothing you say to me is gonna make me quit. I’m here, I’m racing, and I came in first place tonight, so just shut it.”

  The other racers stifled chuckles. Atallah glared at everyone, then shot to his feet and stomped off to the well.

  Randi clapped. “Thank you, Rue!”

  “I can’t stand him,” muttered Axel.

  “You can’t stand a lot of people,” chuckled Bae.

  “True, but I really can’t stand Atallah,” Axel glowered as he polished off his goat’s milk. “And that Nye from Alsta.”

  Dodie listened to Axel recount his fight with Nye at the Magistrate’s Banquet. It had started with Nye saying something inappropriate about the girl Salarah. When Bae teased Axel about liking her, he didn’t deny it. Dodie thought it best not to mention Salarah’s impetuous kiss for Taj.

  When they finished their dinner, they stretched out on the sand and lay their heads on their rolled up racer rugs. Soon they were peppering Dodie with questions about Taj and Phoenix and why Dodie could suddenly fly. He did not tell them about Binni’s potion.

  Axel got up to get a drink from the well, and Dodie joined him. They both shouldered their carpets and headed over to the well where two shadowy figures loitered. As they neared them, they recognized Atallah’s boisterous voice. Nye was with him.

  “I was just talking about you, Rat Scat,” said Atallah as Dodie and Axel walked up. “Telling Nye how you’re scared of flying.”

  Nye crossed his arms and pierced Dodie with a glare, his thick black eyebrows knitted together.

  Atallah took a step closer to Dodie. “How come you’re able to fly now? What’s your secret?”

  Dodie drew himself up a bit. “Yeah, I’ve got a secret,” he said. “I’m gonna beat you. Wait, guess it’s not a secret anymore.”

  Axel snickered, Atallah scowled, and Nye kept glaring.

  Atallah got right in Dodie’s face. “Be careful, Rue, and watch your tail tomorrow. There is no way I’m getting beat by some air-sick rat catcher on his grandfather’s rug. No way!” He stormed off to his campfire.

  Axel whistled and dipped a cup into the well. “I think you just woke a monster, Rue.”

  “I know,” groaned Dodie. “How’d the race go for you today?”

  Axel set his cup of water on the edge of the well, and started recounting his narrow miss with the dragons and his gusty journey through the dune range. His back was turned to Nye, so he didn’t see Nye’s quick movement, but Dodie did. Problem was he wasn’t sure what he saw. Nye’s hand moved forward, and the shimmer of glass in the moonlight caught Dodie’s eye for a second. Then Nye left them.

  “I know we’re competitors and all,” Axel was saying, “but I want you to know I respect what you’re doing.”

  “Thanks,” said Dodie, taking a swig of water.

  “Doesn’t mean I can stand you though,” Axel grinned and downed his cup of water.

  “Right,” Dodie grinned back.

  He left Axel at the well and traipsed back among the racers, most of whom were asleep. He was about to rejoin his kinsmen at their campfire when he noticed Zinnia sitting alone at a campfire farthest away from everyone. He walked over to her.

  “Mind if I sit with you?” he asked.

  Zinnia shook her head, gazing into the fire. She still wore her mask.

  Dodie plopped down next to her and set his rolled up Phoenix beside him. He watched the flickering flames light up her masked face with an orange glow. Now that night had set in, the desert had cooled considerably, and the fire’s heat felt soothing and helped him relax.

  The black sky looked bigger than it did back at home, and the stars shined brighter. Dodie thought about his family, wondering if there had been any change in Taj. He thought about his grandfather, and was already looking forward to telling him how he had used his secret map twice on the first day. As he lay there star gazing, his body suddenly felt exhausted and all he wanted to do was roll over and sleep for a long time. But Nadar had warned him about sleeping too soundly, and he wondered how to go about not doing that.

  Oban approached them, and both Dodie and Zinnia scrambled up to show respect.

  “Rue!” he chimed with enthusiasm. “I need to send a brief report back to Turah, and would like to ask you a few questions. Your family will want to know how you are. It’s good publicity. Follow me.”

  Dodie left Zinnia to follow Oban into the officials’ yurt. There was another stone well, slightly smaller than the one outside. A faint wisp of golden dust wafted up from its opening, and Dodie knew it was a Wishing Well. He stepped up to it with Oban.

  “Be sure to speak up so our correspondent at Turah’s Wishing Well can hear you,” Oban instructed. He cleared his throat and barked into the well, “Come in, come in, this is Oban. Do you hear me, Jamar?”

  There was a pause, then a hollow voice echoed up from inside the well. “I hear you loud and clear. Begin your interview.”

  Oban turned to Dodie. “How was your first day?”

  “It was alright,” Dodie said at first, then thought more about his day. “Well, it didn’t start out too good. I didn’t take off fast enough and was in last place.”

  “Really! How did you manage to catch up?”

  Dodie hesitated, remembering his grandfather’s order to keep the secret map hush-hush. “I had a little stash of stardust and used it for extra speed.”

  “What was that last part?” the voice inquired from inside the well.

  “Repeat that last part again for Jamar,” muttered Oban.

  Dodie leaned his head over the well and repeated the bit about using stardust to catch up.

  “That’s brilliant!” Oban praised. “Tell me more about your brother Taj and the reason you’re racing in his stead.”

  With some effort to keep his emotions at bay, Dodie told him all he knew, except for the part that his brother wo
uld die if Dodie didn’t win. He had to repeat a few words into the well. When he was finished with the interview, Dodie returned to Zinnia and sat back down by the campfire.

  “I’m sorry about your brother, really—I couldn’t help eavesdropping,” Zinnia told him quietly. “It’s horrible that he was poisoned.”

  “That’s not the worst of it,” muttered Dodie. “Taj is gonna die.”

  Zinnia inhaled sharply. “There’s no antidote?”

  “No. He’ll die by the end of this week . . . unless . . .”

  “Unless you win and wish for his life,” finished Zinnia.

  “Yeah. I never would’ve taken his place and raced for anything less. This isn’t my thing.”

  “Yeah, I kinda got that.” Zinnia glanced at him. “Do you know who poisoned Taj?”

  “No, but I hope whoever did will hang for it. Pretty sure it was someone at the Magistrate’s Banquet. Were you there?”

  “No, I couldn’t wear a mask to the party!” Zinnia exclaimed, sounding like a girl again. “Do you think another racer poisoned Taj?”

  “Or a sponsor. Taj was the favorite to win. But who’d go to the extreme of poisoning him?” Dodie muttered more to himself as he started going through the guests at the banquet. “And not just to keep him from racing, but to actually kill him? Why wasn’t it enough to just make him sick and unable to compete?” He suddenly gasped.

  “What’s wrong?” Zinnia started.

  Dodie looked at her, weighing whether to tell her or not. “The Seer made a prophecy over Taj. It was a powerful one. It would be a good motive for taking Taj outta the race.”

  “Did anyone else overhear it?” Zinnia asked, very interested.

  “Raz the alchemist and Atallah Hadi might have. They were waiting right outside her tent,” replied Dodie, his voice dropping in suspicion. “If Taj were to die, there’s no way that prophecy could come true now or even later through the years in future Grand Flyers.”

  “Good point.” Zinnia lay down on her rug. “Which poison was used?”