The Magical Flight of Dodie Rue Page 10

  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.

  At the same time, the officials dropped their arms.

  The racers took off.

  Chapter 12

  There was something eerie about this desert, and it wasn’t just because they were crossing it at night or because it was called the Phantom Plains. The moonlight cast a ghostly glow and spawned blue shadows along the dunes. The black sky glittered with stars, and the air was still. Normally it would be a beautiful setting—if it weren’t for the creepy mood saturating the terrain. Several times Dodie felt his spine tingle and goose bumps prickle beneath his tunic, then abruptly they would go away for a few miles. He kept telling himself to calm down, stay focused, and stop reading into anything.

  Everyone raced fairly, for the most part, and kept distance from each other. They were all bent on getting to the first pit stop, breathlessly awaiting the morning. Dodie noticed he was not the only one getting spooked. At one point Bae let out a shriek of surprise for what appeared to be no reason. Zinnia rubbed her arms, and Dodie guessed she was feeling goose bumps. Dodie was just wondering what was wrong with this desert when he noticed something peculiar.

  He happened to glance down below him, and saw a ripple in the sand following along with him. At first he figured it was the wind, but there was no wind—the air was stagnant. He barely felt a breath as he flew. He watched the ripple chase along below him.

  He glanced over at the other racers, but saw no ripples chasing along below them. Was his carpet creating some sort of drag that was rippling the sand? He couldn’t figure it out, but he felt goose bumps and a sort of coldness in his heart.

  “What in the world?”

  When he said these words, his breath made little pale puffs. The only time his breath ever did this was sometimes in the dead of winter when he would wake up in the middle of the night shivering. The air would be so dry and cold that his breath would emit puffs of smoke, as he called it. Taj usually let him share his bed for warmth since they couldn’t afford extra oil for the heat lamps. Taj would always threaten Dodie that
if he snored or drooled he had to go straight back to his own bed. Dodie guessed he never did either, for Taj never kicked him out.

  Dodie’s hands didn’t feel abnormally cold, so he was surprised he could see his breath. The ripples below him started to grow, as if something hidden under the sand was surfacing. Dodie gripped his loops. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting—another gigantic scorpion, or maybe a devilish spirit. He sure wasn’t expecting what he saw next.

  A sparkly arrow appeared in the sand, pointing ahead and speeding along below him. Dodie watched the arrow, his eyes transfixed on it. All sound around him grew muffled, including Zinnia’s voice calling to him. He kept his eyes on the arrow below and followed it.

  Then the arrow disappeared. Dodie slowed down a bit, his eyes searching below him for it. He looked ahead, and his heart leaped.

  “Taj!” he yelled. “Taj! What are you doing here?”

  His brother stood atop a sand dune, his tall, lean figure silhouetted against the blue moonlit sky. He did not wave or speak, but stared at Dodie.

  Dodie was too excited to be confused at Taj’s sudden appearance. He realized how much he had missed his brother over the past few days, and how desperately worried he was over his life. Seeing Taj standing there, tall and strong, caused a large lump to rise up in Dodie’s throat.

  “Taj! You have—no, wait! Where are you going?” Dodie raced ahead, but no matter how much sand he covered, he could get no closer to his brother. Taj always looked far away. Dodie wondered what was going on. Come to think of it . . .

  How had Taj gotten here? Had he miraculously recovered, and gone in search of his little brother? Did this mean Dodie no longer had to race?

  If only he could catch up to Taj. He could ask him these questions and invite him to hop on board Phoenix. He would give the reins over to Taj. After all, Taj was supposed to be crossing this desert right now—not Dodie. It would be such a relief to let Taj finish the race, and of course a relief not to worry about Taj’s life anymore.

  Taj disappeared. Dodie felt that lump flaring up in his throat again.

  “No! Where are you? TAJ!” he screamed.

  He crossed over the dune, and searched the horizon. There was no sign of Taj, not even footprints in the sand below. Dodie pulled up to a stop, sat up straight, and scanned the plains.

  “You can’t leave me. I need you.” Dodie wiped his eyes and clutched the good luck charm strung around his neck.

  He was all alone. He must have drifted off course from the other racers, for he had no idea where he was. He rummaged around behind him in his waist pouch and found his compass. He squinted at it in the darkness.

  “Great!” he groaned.

  North was behind him. He had veered completely south in the opposite direction of where he needed to go. But he couldn’t turn around, not yet. He kept scanning the dunes for his brother. Maybe Taj would reappear. Dodie’s eye caught a shadowing movement a few yards away, and he perked up, his heart beating with hope.

  But the longer Dodie hovered there, he realized there was no Taj . . . there never had been. He couldn’t explain what he had seen, but he knew it was beyond reason that his brother could be out there in the desert with him. Taj was hundreds of miles away, dying in his bed.

  Turning Phoenix around, he zoomed off in a northern direction. He covered a few miles when suddenly Nye crossed his path, heading west. Dodie ignored him and kept going north.

  Then he noticed the sand rippling below him.

  “What is this?” Dodie muttered.

  The glittering arrow appeared again. Dodie turned away from it, determined not to follow it, but it seemed the arrow was following him . . . until Dodie checked his compass. He was heading east.

  “What?!” he growled. He adjusted his position.

  He started to feel very muddled, for he couldn’t tell if the arrow was following him for if he was following the arrow. Dodie tried to stay constant, but every time he checked his compass he found he had drifted off course. When he trained his eyes ahead, the arrow jumped ahead of him and took up his view. He grew frustrated.

  Then he spotted another figure atop a distant sand dune. In the moonlight, he recognized his grandfather Nadar sitting on his carpet.

  “Grandpapa!” Dodie waved at him. “I’m so glad to see you!”

  Again Dodie took no time to question how his grandfather had managed to turn up there. He needed to see his grandfather’s wrinkled face and hear his grandfather assure him he was doing the right thing by racing. He wanted to glean as many tips as possible about the Grand Flyer, and he was anxious to hear news on how Taj was doing.

  But just as before, Dodie could never get any closer to Nadar. His grandfather, thin and hunched on his carpet, always appeared far away. Dodie gritted his teeth, determined to reach his grandfather.

  “No—stay right there! Hey!”

  Dodie coaxed more speed out of Phoenix to catch Nadar before he disappeared over the other side of the dune. He really needed his grandfather’s encouragement right now. He was feeling alone and defeated, but there was no trace of Nadar.

  Dodie fought back tears as he checked his compass, turned his carpet, and headed north again. He spotted Zinnia, which made him feel better, but then made him suspicious. Was this really Zinnia? Would she disappear like his brother and grandfather?

  “There you are!” Zinnia called.

  Dodie felt relief. “What’s going on with this desert?”

  “Mirages.”

  “You only see mirages when you’re dying in the hot desert.”

  “This desert is haunted,” explained Zinnia as she sidled up to him. “It shows you your heart’s desire in the form of a mirage. Don’t trust it.”

  “I’m trying not to,” said Dodie, “but it keeps leading me off the course.”

  “I saw my dad.” Zinnia’s voice sounded choked.

  “Sorry. I saw Taj.”

  “That makes sense.”

  “How do we get through this?” Dodie noticed the arrow below him again.

  “We have to fly together. We have to keep each other from following the mirages we see.”

  “Two are better than one,” Dodie said knowingly. He reached over and grabbed the edge of her carpet.

  “You keep your eyes ahead, and I’ll keep my eyes on the compass,” she said.

  Several times Dodie felt her carpet tug in his hand, and realized he must have started to veer off course. Zinnia’s eyes never left the compass so she could keep them on course and keep herself from being tempted by a mirage.

  The sky started to lighten, much to their relief. It was hard work flying close and keeping on course. A few times Dodie thought he saw Taj and Nadar in the distance, but he mustered enough self-control to ignore them. He had a hard time keeping that lump down in his throat. He was looking forward to the pit stop at dawn. He noticed that as the night wore off, so did the arrow and the sightings of his family. As the sun rose, bathing the Phantom Plains with golden light, the mirages faded completely.

  “I think we’re in the clear,” he told Zinnia.

  Zinnia looked up from her compass. “There’s the pit stop!”

  Ahead they could see a large red yurt posted at the foot of a mild mountain range. A stream trickled beside the yurt. Dodie and Zinnia landed and found they were the first ones to arrive.

  “Maybe the others already stopped and moved on,” Zinnia noted.

  “I don’t think so,” said Dodie as he entered the yurt. “It doesn’t look like any food’s been eaten yet.” He helped himself to the baskets of bread, apples, and raisins.

  “Good, maybe we can get a head start before they arrive.” Zinnia bit into an apple.

  Just then Atallah strutted into the yurt, and pulled off his head mask.

  “I thought you guys got bewitched out there,” he smirked as he grabbed a
piece of bread and stuffed it into his mouth. He chewed and swallowed. “Did you see your mommy out there, Rat Scat? Oh wait, she’s dead.”

  “Shut up, Atallah.” Dodie finished his apple and chucked the core to the ground. He threw a fistful of raisins into his mouth.

  “How about you, Zin?” Atallah asked casually, swiping an apple. “Who’d you see? What’s your story?”

  Zinnia started to pass him.

  Quicker than quick, Atallah reached out and whipped off her head mask.

  Zinnia shrieked.

  Dodie yelled.

  Atallah gasped.

  The three of them stood still, except for their eyes darting around at each other.

  Slowly, a smile spread across Atallah’s face. “You’re good,” he said to Zinnia. “You totally fooled me. I never would’ve guessed you were a girl.” He grinned wider. “But that’s the problem—you’re a girl, and last I recall, girls can’t race in the Grand Flyer.”

  “Too late,” panted Zinnia. “I already am.”

  “Go right ahead,” shrugged Atallah as he bit into his apple. “But if you win, you can’t collect the prize. You’ll immediately be disqualified. Unless . . .”

  “Unless what?” Dodie spoke up.

  “You knew all along, right?” Atallah pointed a finger at him. “Hmm, judges could rule that you were an accomplice. You should’ve reported her right away. You could be disqualified, too.”

  “Don’t listen to him,” said Zinnia. “That is not a rule.”

  “You said unless,” Dodie pressed. “Unless what?”

  “Well, there’s no rule against racers sharing a carpet. You could ride with me, Zin,” Atallah winked at her. “Then when I win we could share the prizes.”

  “No prize is worth that,” Zinnia scowled. “Besides, the rule states that to win the racer must come in first on his carpet. That would be you.”