by Kit Downes
“Celestial curses!” Zal said as Dari fired.
The arrow flew down towards them, the orange flames trailing and giving it the appearance of a small burning comet. Zara steered the carpet to the left and it missed them, but Dari was already drawing the bow for his next shot.
“Yoww!” This one came close enough that Zal had to duck.
Zara was flying them in a zigzag across the desert, still at full speed, but Dari was an excellent archer. He judged their movement, compensating for wind, and his arrows kept coming closer.
“Zara, do something!” Zal yelled.
As Zara looked around in frantic desperation, her eyes landed on Rip, who was jumping up and down and barking furiously at the pursuing carpet.
“Take over!” She scooted out of the driver’s position and the carpet wobbled. Zal jumped into her place and steadied it; he was no sorcerer, but a magic carpet could always be flown by its weaver.
Zara stood gazing at the Shadows for a second and then raised her arms. Rip barked in surprise as she levitated him up off the carpet and into mid-air. His barks became terrified as she raised him higher and higher, up to the level of the Shadow carpet, and then deposited him onto it.
Surprised by his sudden appearance, Shar and Dari hesitated long enough for Rip to get his bearings, recognize his master’s enemy, jump up and sink his teeth into Dari’s arm. Dari dropped his bow and screamed, arms flailing.
“Shar, do something!” Haragan shouted.
Shar grabbed hold of Rip’s back legs and pulled. Rip came loose but Dari had been pulling in the opposite direction and toppled backwards off the edge of the carpet. The timing was, by accident, perfect. Dari fell five feet, screaming all the way, and landed safe but winded on top of the second racing landmark, the Sky Stone, a tremendous black meteorite that had struck earth centuries ago and was now half buried in the sand. The two carpets turned east, and were travelling at such a speed that Dari was soon left far behind.
Shar realized he was still holding Rip. A phantom pain from two nights ago burned in his leg and he threw the ferocious dog overboard. Rip dropped three feet before Zara’s magic caught him and guided him back down to the Thesa carpet.
“Well done, boy!” Zara laughed as she caught him.
“Zara,” Zal called, “I can’t drive through this!”
Zara turned. “Switch back!” she yelled, and they again swapped places.
Up ahead was the third landmark: the Mushroom Rocks. Eons of sandstorms had carved the huge boulders there into strange mushroom shapes, the smallest of which was two hundred feet tall. They looked impossible, structures that could not – or should not – truly exist. Azamed’s children’s stories said they had been made by some of the Celestial Stork’s more playful chicks, and that the Stork herself had left them as they were because she treasured the memories. No one in the Great Race flew around them: they always flew right through the middle. It was the most treacherous and exciting stretch of the race and required the greatest piloting skill. Zal wasn’t at all ashamed at asking Zara to take over – being smeared like an insect would not be a good end to the race.
With Haragan and Shar still above them and close behind, they entered the natural maze. The rainbow carpet’s manoeuvrability became their lifesaver, as did Zara’s quick reflexes. She steered, twisted, turned and wove the carpet through the long, dangerous path the rocks had to offer. She swung left to avoid one outcrop, dropped down to avoid a second, made a sharp right round the largest mushroom head and shot through a natural cave, grinning with exhilaration the whole way. Zal sat behind, holding tightly to Rip, his face whiter than snow.
Haragan and Shar had a more difficult time. The ends of their carpet were free from drift due to the transparent thread, while the middle, which they’d hastily woven the night before, wasn’t. It kept moving sideways, pulling the carpet out of joint. They had lots of close calls, coming near enough to the mushroom heads to reach out and touch them. They did brush several, the rough rock tearing open the threads, which Haragan had to use quick magic to repair. At last the two carpets shot out onto the golden rolling desert once again.
“Zal. Large Oasis!” Zara shouted, and Zal readied the cup again.
Haragan brought his carpet down to the Thesas’ level and they skimmed across the lake of the Large Oasis almost as one. Zal and Shar both scooped up the water, but the Shadows’ carpet climbed back to its menacing altitude faster and took the lead as two passengers, not three, needed to drink the water. Once the Thesa carpet had left the lake and headed north towards Arc Rock, the Shadows were ready with their next trick.
Zal watched as Haragan and Shar switched places. Standing tall at the edge of their carpet, Haragan held up a small wicker basket where Zal could see it. Zal wrapped his fingers round his sword hilt. Haragan took the lid off the basket. Out of it erupted three dozen pygmy dragons. Their wings fluttered into life and they swarmed down like hail towards the Thesa carpet, their teeth gnashing together and smoke and flames puffing from their nostrils. If Zal had possessed magic he would have sensed the enchantment they carried: an insatiable hunger for carpet thread. Haragan had sensibly enchanted his own carpet to smell unappetizing.
Zal whipped his scimitar from its scabbard. Failure did not enter his mind; it was unthinkable. He had no choice but to do it right this time. The dragons streamed downwards, and in his mind’s eye they turned into multicoloured handkerchiefs falling towards his upturned face.
Zal brought up the sword and swung. He cut it back and forth in short, tight arcs, slicing the dragons out of the air before even one of them could reach the carpet. Each single one, pair, and once three in one go, Zal cut asunder. They exploded in small pops of flame and magic as the blade went through them. Zal gritted his teeth, stopped himself from blinking and ignored his burning muscles. He saw the dragons and the handkerchiefs falling together. He cut all seven colours, and then so many more. Suddenly the air was empty and Zal returned, panting, to reality. Haragan stamped his foot and almost fell overboard as his scavenged carpet sank beneath the impact.
“Zal?” said Zara, who had been facing forward the whole time. “Did something just happen?”
Zal thought for a moment, then realized how much his arm hurt. “No,” he said, and sat down.
At the same moment, Zara looked over her shoulder. “Look out!” she yelped.
Zal turned just as Haragan’s carpet swooped down and came alongside them. With less than an arm’s length between them, Shar swung his Burying Blade across the gap, aiming not at the riders but their carpet. Zal drew his sword and parried Shar in the same motion. Rip launched himself at the Shadow, but Shar was ready for him and whacked him aside with his free hand. The little dog skittered off the edge of the carpet, but at the last second he managed to bite into it and hold on with his teeth. Shar and Zal slashed back and forth at each other in fury, their blades sparking like fireworks as they clashed. Zal scooted round on his bottom and shot both of his feet out, across the gap, into Shar’s stomach. As Shar stumbled backwards and wobbled on the edge of the Shadow carpet, Zara reached over her shoulder and fired a green magic bolt straight into his chest. He fell backwards, the carpet vanishing from under his feet, and landed in the sand dunes just as both carpets shot through the giant natural archway, as big as a cathedral door, that was called Arc Rock: the last landmark of the race.
Now began the long final stretch of desert to the finish line. Zal helped Rip back up onto the carpet and was amazed to see that his teeth hadn’t damaged it in the slightest. Haragan, the last member of the Shadow team, pulled away from them lest Zal should attack his carpet with his sword. The three members of the Thesa team watched Azamed reappear in the distance, a tiny shining light on the horizon.
“We can still win,” said Zal.
“We’re going to win,” Zara said.
They both looked across at Haragan, who was looking between them and the city, trying to think up new tactics.
“We’re rea
dy for you,” muttered Zal.
A faint sound slipped through the wind and reached their ears. It was soft, but drawn out long enough to be noticeable. Zal, Zara and Rip all looked round, and at each other, recognizing something familiar in it. A note of triumph and madness. Haragan heard it too, and they saw him look over his shoulder and then freeze.
Another carpet was catching them up.
“That’s too fast! That’s not a six-colour,” said Zal.
The carpet became clearer as it drew closer, and they could just pick out seven colours woven into it. But the colours had all faded almost to grey with age. There were two riders on it, together with a third shape – a kind of hazy mist that hung over its centre and didn’t fade or trail out behind.
“Holy Stork!” said Zara.
The carpet drew closer still.
“AHA!” The last Emperor of Nygel pointed at them, rage and triumph in his eyes. Two mummy guards were on the carpet with him – Salladan Shadow’s bodyguards had evidently tried to complete their mission. One of the mummies was missing his left arm; the other, who was driving, was missing his head.
“Left,” the Emperor commanded the headless one. “That’s too far. Yes, that’s better. Aha, there you thieves are! Two rainbow carpets, woven in a single night. The audacity! You will pay for it! Your masters will not profit from it! You will pay ten thousand times! The secret of the rainbow carpets will go to the grave with you!”
Haragan looked over at the Thesa carpet, astonishment in his eyes. Zal found himself wishing they could stop and explain. The Emperor’s sudden appearance was almost embarrassing.
There was a whistling sound, and Zara pulled the carpet to the right as a long, thick spear flew past them and thudded into the sand. It took Zal less than a second to recognize it. He’d seen a display of them in a dusty cabinet in Azamed’s museum. An aerial javelin: a weapon designed for the Carpet Wars and used in them to great effect. The metal spearheads, which spun when thrown, were sharp and heavy; they could cut through the tightest weave of carpet in mid-air. Then the spear shafts below the heads, which were covered in metal hooks and spines, would catch the loose ends of the thread. The weight of the javelin would pull on these, unravelling the carpet from the inside, which was far more difficult to repair than the edge. One well thrown javelin could take even a rainbow carpet out of the air.
“Hold on!” Zara swung the carpet again as the mummy threw another, which missed them even more narrowly than Dari’s arrows. Haragan was watching in delight and began to push ahead – until the mummy threw one at him and managed to tear off several of his carpet’s trailing back tassels. The mummy then began hurling at them alternately, almost in rhythm with the Emperor’s maniacal laughter. The Thesa and Shadow carpets wove and zigzagged across the sands.
“Left! Left! Left!” Zal shouted. Zara obeyed and another javelin struck the sand. Zal drew his sword but kept it at his side. He could only parry once. The javelins were thick and heavy – he could knock one of them away but it would snap his sword.
“Yikes!” Haragan was having no easier time of it, and with his crew gone he had to look over his shoulder to see the missiles coming as well as keeping the carpet on track. Where on earth had this ghost come from? No ghosts had been listed on the race obelisk; he’d read all the names before they left.
“Give me your hand,” Zara called to Zal, reaching behind her.
Without thinking about it, Zal did so.
“Whoa!” Powerful red magic spiralled up his arm. The effect was far brighter and more impressive than it had been in the caves. “What did you just…?”
“Catch the next one!” Zara shouted.
“What?”
“Catch the next one!”
“Catch the next one?”
“Yes!”
“Are you insa—?”
The next javelin flew straight towards them. Its head and jagged shaft spiralled as it flew, sunlight exploding off the points and edges. Zal’s enchanted arm came up faster than he could have ever moved it, even in swordplay, and caught the javelin. His hand closed on the shaft just behind the barbs and stopped the flying weapon an inch from his nose.
“Holy Stork!”
The mummy on the Emperor’s carpet, and Haragan on his, both paused in amazement.
“Have you got it?” Zara called.
“What? Yes!”
“Great. Throw it back!”
“Throw it back?”
Zal looked up at the Emperor’s ancient carpet, thirty feet above them and just as far behind.
“The spell…” Zara yelled.
Zal reversed the javelin, drew back his arm and threw, putting behind it every muscle he could find. The blue halo around his arm surged forward, adding the force of an avalanche to his throw. The javelin was carried up, up, higher than should be possible. The mummy guard ducked to avoid it and it passed straight through the furious, ranting Emperor.
“Curse you, insolent boy!”
“Ha-ha!” Zal jumped up and down in delight and readied himself for the mummy to throw the next javelin. It did; he caught it, spun it round and hurled it straight back.
There was a flash of magic off to Zal’s left and he glanced over to see Haragan casting the same red spell on his own arm. Swivelling round, so he was flying his carpet backwards, Haragan mirrored Zal, catching and returning the javelins that came at him.
Within seconds they had a rhythm going. The mummy threw the javelin at Zal. Zal caught it and threw it back. The mummy caught it and threw it at Haragan. Haragan caught it and threw it at the mummy. The mummy caught it and threw it at Zal. One javelin went through this several times before Zara, who was watching over her shoulder, realized they were getting nowhere.
“Zal, hold the next one!” she called. “You both have to do it together!”
“What?”
“He’s only got one arm. HARAGAN!”
Haragan looked over.
“Hold the next one!”
“What?” He looked at Zara in astonishment. He could barely believe she was addressing him. They were mortal enemies! Or at least they had been before she and Thesa had come back from the dead.
The mummy threw a new javelin at Zal; Zal caught it but held it by his side. The mummy waited, as if expecting Zal to return it to him. The Emperor bellowed at him and he picked up another and hurled it at Haragan. Haragan also caught it, made to throw it, then paused and looked to the Thesa carpet.
“GOOD!” Zara shouted. “Now, BOTH TOGETHER!”
Zal and Haragan looked at one another. Mistrust and suspicion filled Zal’s face and Haragan’s eyes.
“THROW!” Zara bellowed.
They both threw, their javelins climbing in twin arcs. The guard caught Zal’s with his one arm. Haragan’s speared him straight through the chest, carrying him backwards, through the Emperor and off the edge of the carpet. The mummy’s body crumbled to dust and his empty armour, with its shattered breastplate, thumped on the sands.
“NO!” The Emperor shook his fists.
“Huzzah!” yelled Haragan.
“Howzat!” screamed Zal.
“Switch places!” shouted Zara. She grabbed Zal and pulled him into the driver’s place as she moved out of it.
“What are you…?”
“Just drive. I’m going to finish this.”
Zara stood up on the carpet, facing the Emperor, and raised both her arms. The wind whipped her head and her clothes but she stood firm and began chanting. A cloud of white magic spewed from the space between her palms and surged through the air, up towards her enemy.
“No!”
Now the Emperor’s scream was of fear. All ghosts have some magical powers, and his magic now crackled alive, forming a pale grey bubble round his carpet and one remaining mummy. Zara’s white mist struck the edge and pushed. The bubble bent inwards, rolled and wobbled but held intact. Zara strained and pushed harder, sweat beading on her forehead. The magic pushed the bubble in a little further, but sl
owly it was pushed out again.
“No…” Zara strained.
Suddenly a second, red column of magic struck and merged with Zara’s first. She and Zal and Rip looked to see Haragan standing on his unbalanced carpet, adding his power to the fight.
“Both together!” Haragan shouted. This ghost and its mummies were dangerous. They had to be destroyed. Whatever it took.
The two magicians pushed. The bubble moved back in. They pushed harder and harder still, their white and red magic merging into a dazzling pink. The bubble shrank in further, crackled and finally burst. Their magic shot forward and enveloped the Emperor, the mummy and the carpet.
“NOOOOoooooo!”
Faradeen, the Eight Hundred and Thirty-fourth Emperor of Nygel, screamed for the last time as the combined spells took effect. His ghostly form, the mummy’s dried body and the carpet all faded away, scattered on the winds of time. Their souls had departed at last; gone to whatever awaited them on the other side.
“Phew!” Zara turned back to Zal. “Switch back.”
“Are you sure? You’re OK?”
“I’m fine. Let me take over.”
“All ri— Watch out!”
Haragan looked around and found he still had red magic glowing on his hands. He considered for a moment, then spun on his heel and fired.
“Whoa!” screamed Zal and Zara. There was no time for a magical block. Zara threw herself flat as Zal wrenched the carpet out of harm’s way. The magic hit the top of a sand dune, churning dust into the air.
“Scoundrel!” Zal screamed across at Haragan.
Haragan, imagining the punishment the Society would mete out for his failure, didn’t return the insult. “Cosmos Vulture, be with me now!” he yelled as he drew his Burying Blade … and realized, in that moment, that he did not really believe.
He again brought his carpet alongside the Thesas’ and the two of them raced side by side, a few feet above the ground and almost touching. The fighting intensified to chaos. Haragan fought Zal with his dagger with his left hand and Zara with magic with his right. Zal knelt on the carpet and held Rip back with his free hand as he cut and slashed, trying to both injure Haragan and damage his carpet.