XXIX

VEK.

Even braced and with a full four people’s Will flooding my legs, the explosion forward makes me sway, veins standing out on my arm as I grip the iron reins to stop myself from toppling. Rotting gods. This is fast. Wooden wheels clatter and the stone ones grind along the sand with a roaring, chest-shaking thrum. Everything vibrates. The chariot feels like it’s about to fall apart. I barely manage to keep the image of Aequa’s horse in my head; when I recover enough to risk a half glance to my left, I’m relieved to see her chariot hurtling violently forward too. My mental control is working, and the Will I imbued seems roughly equivalent to the others’, at least based on our respective speeds. A good start.

We hit the first corner. Ahead, Marcellus’s red chariot and Felix’s white one weave, almost touching wheels. Iro is out ahead of them. I grapple with the reins, pulling to the left but curving wide, too cautious and too fast as I learn how the chariot responds. Aequa’s behind me but as my mental sense of her stone wheel hits the curve I slow her, feeling it as she cuts inward, far more sharply than I did. There’s an abrupt shiver in my forcing her forward, and I let out a wild laugh at a shout of concern from Indol. Not even a lap in, and she’s ramming him.

I almost turn to check on her success when, abruptly, I realise I don’t have to.

Through the thunder, I focus.

My awareness of the other imbued wheels isn’t as strong as it is for Aequa’s, of course, but it’s definitely there. Those same uneasy pulses in my head, neither light nor sound. I can mentally pinpoint every single chariot on the track without looking.

I quickly assess, muscles bunching as my own chariot leaps forward with renewed vigour to careen out of the corner into the straight. I’m in a small pocket by myself right now: Iro’s blue is ahead with Marcellus and Felix not far behind, and the other four are clumped together behind me. Worryingly close to one another, in fact.

Aequa has broken away from Indol again—he’s survived the clash, clearly—but someone is heading hard toward her, not slowing enough for the corner and charging at her left side as she hits the turn. No doubt what they’re trying to accomplish. No telling whether Aequa even knows they’re there.

I pull hard on her stone horse, slowing her sharply and silently praying the abrupt change of pace doesn’t throw her. The attacker’s too close and flies by through the space where she should have been, sliding wide. I feel Aequa correct slightly to the left. She hasn’t fallen off. I drive her forward again, into the gap left by the attack. She bursts into the straight, distance between her and whoever tried to take her out.

The oppressive grinding of stone fills my ears, chatters my teeth. Sand sprays from beneath the massive wheel as my chariot flies faster and faster. I try not to panic. I do not feel in control. I am not safe. This was a stupid idea. The others will have no clue that I’ve taken such a wild risk; any of the other teams could easily kill me by simply hitting me. Those thundering stone wheels are death to anyone not properly self-imbued.

As I wrestle my chariot into the next corner, though, I adjust to the juddering madness of the ride. My mind catches up to the scenery flashing by. Assesses. Iro is surging ahead; Indol’s strength is showing through on the straight, already widening the gap between his partner and everyone else. It’s probably a planned move on their behalf: Indol focuses on keeping Iro in the lead, while Iro just makes sure Indol stays in the race. Risky—unlike me, Indol won’t be able to see Iro’s competition if they get too far apart, and vice versa—but it’s easier in a lot of ways. Effective in its simplicity.

We emerge from the curve and fly into the straight closest to the watching senators. Adapting though I may be, I don’t have the confidence to spare them a glance. Ahead, Iro’s blue chariot grinds across the invisible line denoted by the seven leaping stone dolphins at the track’s edge. The first tips forward to mark his passing. I follow a couple of seconds after.

One lap down.

I’m gaining on Marcellus and Felix, who are thundering almost side by side just up ahead. Felix’s white is on the outside. He veers slightly in, I think trying to spook Marcellus into moving rather than attempting to ram him. The wheels on their chariots graze one another. Marcellus doesn’t budge. Felix eases off. He doesn’t actually want to collide; serious contact from that position could easily result in both of them crashing out.

Iro hits the corner ahead but almost too hard; his chariot sways as he wrestles with the reins, pulling urgently to the left as he tries to wrest it into a smooth turn. Indol’s got enough control to slow him just slightly, though, and Iro’s panicked pulling eases into a managed steer as he takes a sharp line around the curve. He’s putting distance between himself and everyone else.

“You know what to do, Aequa,” I mutter between clenched teeth. Indol’s last right now—not by a long way, but in a position where he’s not in any danger of being hit. Aequa’s not far behind me, the extra Will I put into her chariot paying off, but Livia was right. Indol’s imbuing is too strong. We need to disrupt him. And I’m the one ahead.

So I ease off my propelling of her chariot. It feels counterintuitive, but we need to do this now; Indol and Iro will pull too far away if allowed to continue with this tactic. Aequa’s smart enough to understand what we need.

I use the breathing room I have right now to focus on my teammate. Feel the beacon of my own imbuing slow, slide back toward the pursuing three duller pulses. For a moment Aequa doesn’t deviate and I wonder whether she’s realised what’s happening, but then she sheers off to the right, away from the pounding stone coming up on her rear. Two of the pulses pass her almost in lockstep: that must be Tiberius and Diana, fighting it out. Indol isn’t far behind them, but though he veers in the opposite direction to Aequa, he doesn’t slow. Iro’s too far ahead to see what’s happening.

I cut into the next corner hard, trusting Aequa’s superior control to let me push at as sharp an angle as possible. There’s a flash of panic as it feels as though my green chariot’s about to tip over from the momentum. My left wheel lifts, then thuds back to the sand; I gasp as it does, terror firing through me. But I’m through. Still balanced, thanks to the excess of Will anchoring my legs.

And as I emerge this time, I’ve gained several feet on the three in front of me.

Indol and Aequa are in the corner behind me. Indol seems to realise what Aequa is doing and is trying to position himself to ram her, but when Aequa swings hard for the inside of the track, I see what she’s doing and slow her sharply. Indol’s going too fast, and I suspect Iro has no idea what’s happening back there. Indol is forced to go wider to make the corner. He emerges from it in front of Aequa.

I fling my teammate out of the bend, pouring speed into her chariot. She arrows toward Indol. She knows what I need her to do. When Aequa is no more than a few feet away, I match her speed to his. Let her sit on his tail, her grinding stone wheel a thundering fear in his ears.

No point in risking a collision. Not yet. All I need is for Indol to have something to think about other than Iro.

Iro’s pace doesn’t falter, but he enters the curve ahead too fast and slews wide, slowing a second later than he would have wanted. It’s not much, but Felix and Marcellus—white and red still close to each other, though Felix has dropped back slightly—take the turn better. Aequa’s control of my chariot’s speed continues to be perfect, and I scream out of the corner not more than ten feet behind Felix.

Another stone dolphin tips forward. Two laps down.

Iro has realised what’s happening with Indol; the Will marking Indol’s chariot is suddenly moving faster as it exits the turn behind, pulling away from Aequa. I respond in kind, focusing and using the entirety of my imbued Will to drive her forward; she creeps closer until she’s on his heels once again. Indol’s speed doesn’t increase in response. Either Iro hasn’t noticed it’s needed, or—more likely—doesn’t have enough Will imbued to go any faster. The two of them may be at the back, but they’re rapidly catching up now.

The next lap passes in a cacophonous, dusty haze as we grapple with our chariots and imbuing; the field slowly contracts, all eight of us bunching together again as Iro slows and Indol and Aequa gain. I’m on the heels of Felix and Marcellus, now. Moving faster than them as Aequa’s strength and control outshines that of Diana and Tiberius, particularly as they continue to clash behind me.

I can see Marcellus darting anxious glances back in my direction as I near. He can hear the growl of my approach. Has realised whose chariot this is. Knows exactly what I think of him.

But as much as I despise his cowardice in the Iudicium, I’m not about to risk crashing out for a grudge. So for now, I’ll settle for being a distraction.

What I don’t count on is how it makes Marcellus panic.

It happens just after the start of the fourth lap, right after he’s cast another fearful look over his shoulder at my shrieking stone wheel. He twists in the wrong direction, leaving Felix—who is still keeping pace with him, only a few feet back on the outside—on his blind side. Felix spots Marcellus’s mistake and twitches in, considering an attack, but doesn’t commit. Marcellus straightens. Sees Felix is closer from the corner of his eye. Realises what he’s thinking.

The boy in the red chariot cries out and yanks at his reins fiercely, swinging violently outward in what is presumably an attempt to meet the anticipated attack. Felix has backed off, though. Marcellus’s move was made with an expectation of an impact to lessen the sharpness of the turn. His speed tilts him. Brings him up on one wheel.

His chariot flips.

It all happens in the space of a second. I see it as if it took minutes. Marcellus’s black eyes go wide. He flails. Jerks his reins in a vain attempt to straighten. His body snaps sideways; he tries to jump but the chains wrapped around his waist hold him down. He’s dragged beneath the rolling wood.

The chariot disintegrates on top of him. Wood splinters and groans and shatters. Sand and dust sprays an opaque curtain. The stone wheel slews and somersaults into the brown haze. I see glimpses of protruding limbs as the wreckage cartwheels end over end over end; Marcellus’s shriek pierces the chaos and then it’s swiftly, frighteningly cut off.

Ahead to my right, Felix shouts and veers wide, peeling away from the flying debris, though he started just far enough to the side that he was never at serious risk.

I, on the other hand, was right behind Marcellus.

Everything slows as the disaster plays out. There’s no turning, no trying to avoid the mess in front of me, not unless I want to end up exactly like Marcellus. I twitch to the left, away from where I think Marcellus might end up, but otherwise keep my stone wheel straight and brace myself, clenching the chariot’s green frame with my one hand.

I hurtle into the dust. It gets in my eyes, my mouth, thick and dry. I can’t see more than a foot or two ahead. My sense of Marcellus’s stone wheel is flying off to the right; thankfully Felix seems able to see it because he adjusts, thundering by a few feet away. Something crunches beneath the grinding roar of my own stone wheel. My chariot jolts violently. Even with the Will in my legs, even crouching and prepared, my feet leave the small wooden platform. Only my grip on the frame keeps me from flying off. My arm feels like it’s being wrenched from its socket. The splintering sounds beneath me make me certain at least one of my wooden wheels has been destroyed. There’s a moment of weightlessness.

Then my feet are hitting the wood again and I’m still, miraculously, on the chariot that is still, miraculously, surging forward. I burst through the dust cloud and into clear air again, blinking specs from my eyes just in time to register that I’m about to hit the corner. Red wreckage spins away off the track at the edge of my vision. I’m gasping. Hand shaking as it unlatches from the chariot railing to control the reins again, pulling me left into the turn.

I’m alive. Still in the race.

I’m also ahead of Felix now after he took the corner wide, putting me behind Iro alone. In my mind I can see one of the stone wheels behind me slowing rapidly, dropping back and moving to the outer edge of the track. No doubt Tiberius’s chariot. Marcellus is either unconscious or just letting his teammate retire, but either way, the Will imbued in it is still there. That’s good. I may not think much of Marcellus, but I certainly don’t want to see him dead.

Both Aequa and Indol have passed Diana now and are on Felix’s heels; I may be ahead of the group but the four of us form an uncomfortably tight pack, and I start to understand Marcellus’s nervousness. The rumbling grind of massive stone wheels behind me feels like it’s crawling up my back. If I wasn’t able to position everyone mentally, I don’t think I’d be able to resist glancing over my shoulder. I almost can’t anyway.

Iro hits the next curve less than twenty feet ahead, the gap gradually but consistently shortening as Indol grapples with Aequa’s harassment. She’s still on his tail: he’s also boxed in on his right by Felix and on his left by the centre railing. We’re in a good position. Felix and Diana will still want to win for Governance on their own, of course; Diana is strongly placed to focus on getting Felix into first, so like Aequa, I doubt they’ll actually risk a collision just to take out Indol. But even so, as long as Indol’s battling on multiple fronts, his focus will necessarily be dragged away from helping Iro.

We fly through the curve together, all dust and thunder. People have raced onto the sand to clear Marcellus and much of the debris from his chariot. His stone wheel has shattered some of the wall where it exited the track.

Five dolphins down. Two to go.

I’m on Iro’s heels. Indol’s on mine.

There’s a wobble behind me as Indol feints to the right, trying to get Felix to back off and give him room to manoeuvre. He knows exactly what Aequa will risk doing to him if Iro is still winning on the final lap. Felix doesn’t budge. Indol moves again and this time there’s a screeching of wood as the two touch. Felix shouts his alarm but holds his nerve. Diana isn’t too far behind; she must be throwing all her speed into Felix’s chariot, because now would be the smart time for her to push her teammate up. I’m not complaining, though.

Indol hasn’t given up; he starts attacking Felix’s side with constant bumps, the crashing of chariots and cracking of wood connecting audible even over the roar of the stone horses. Felix is yelling his frustration and worry as we hit the corner. No doubt that it’s Indol initiating the bumps. I consider driving Aequa forward, threatening Indol again, but I don’t want to risk that either. I can barely believe he’s still powering Iro as fast as he is, while attacking Felix and worrying about Aequa right behind him. I don’t think anyone else out here could come close to doing that, myself included. It really was for good reason that he was ranked first in our class.

There’s another cry from Felix and then a massive splintering as the two Will pulses in my mind meet again. I chance a look behind me.

Indol’s slightly ahead of Felix now; he’s leaning dangerously far over the side of his blue chariot. Eyes flooded black. Fist raised. He brings it down right as the two seem about to collide again.

As I watch in disbelief, he shatters one of the white-painted supports between Felix’s chariot and his horse.

Felix’s stone wheel wobbles and then careens off to the side as the front of his chariot slams into the ground. Felix has no chance of hanging on: the chains around his waist are still connected to the wheel. He screams as he’s yanked like a rag doll out of the chariot and through the sand, tumbling end over end, twisting and helpless. I have to tear my gaze away from the explosion of wood and dust. Focus back on my own race before seeing where he ends up, let alone whether he’s alright.

Just the four of us left, now; Diana is slowing dramatically at the back, though again I can still sense Felix’s Will in her wheel, so at least he’s not dead. Aequa has held her nerve, has remained on Indol’s tail. She’ll have less impact with Felix no longer blocking Indol’s ability to manoeuvre, but Indol knows that if he swings out of her path, he’ll be relieving the pressure on me. He can’t afford that.

So now, it’s down to who will hold their nerve. Who will make the first move. No one wants to risk an attack. If Iro starts pushing Indol into me, he knows I’ll just do the same for Aequa and likely no one will finish. The same goes for if Aequa pushes me into Iro. And a draw will benefit no one.

But we also all know that if Iro stays ahead, Aequa and I will do what we have to. And if I look like overtaking him, Iro and Indol will do the same.

The four of us thunder along in a treacherously tight blue and green train. Sand sprays from beneath our wheels. My bones rattle. Legs tiring from the work they’re doing to compensate for my missing arm. Hair whipping wildly across my forehead. I see only the track and the other chariots; everything beyond may as well not exist.

Almost six laps in, I still don’t know whether to be terrified or exhilarated.

My mind races as we exit the corner into the straight to begin our final lap; I find myself examining every minute change in position, trying to divine what Aequa’s thinking, even as I know she’s probably doing exactly the same thing for me. The sixth dolphin tips down, still moving as I pass it. Only my sense of Indol’s wheel at my back prevents me from being convinced that he’s about to mow me down.

The penultimate corner, and Iro makes a mistake. Takes it slightly wide, turns marginally too late.

There’s a surge beneath me as Aequa notices it too. I come up the inside. Alongside him through the narrow gap between him and the pillar. I’m going to pass him.

We’re halfway through the curve when behind me, Indol—or Iro, more accurately—makes his move.

Indol’s chariot jerks, its forward momentum arrested without warning for just a second. My sense of Aequa’s and Indol’s stone wheels is abruptly almost on top of each other, but even as I wait for the sound of shrieking wood, Aequa’s chariot veers sharply away. She must have missed Indol by inches.

Aequa’s focus is shaken for the first time since we started; she swerved wide on instinct to avoid the collision, and now my pace slows as she wrestles to get her own chariot back in position. Indol, on the other hand, immediately bursts forward again. Just as fast as before. He arrows toward me. Iro is boxing me in on the side. His misstep was a feint, an awfully dangerous one. But it’s worked. Aequa is just far enough behind, now, that I won’t be able to respond.

Indol’s going to ram me.

It all happens so fast. Three seconds, perhaps, from beginning to end, as the realisation dawns that I’m going to get seriously injured. At best. Indol’s stone wheel screams closer as if in slow motion. I consider jumping. At these speeds even that won’t end well for me, especially with only one arm to brace my fall. But it’s better than being crushed.

I’m bending my legs to do just that when Indol changes course.

I barely stop my leap. At first I think something must be wrong with Indol’s chariot but when I risk a disbelieving glance, he’s simply steered wide, to the right of Iro. There’s a moment when Iro still doesn’t realise what has happened, fierce glee plastered on his face as he focuses forward. But then he twists. Expression moving from elation to surprise to fury in a heartbeat.

Iro is still thundering side by side with me as we exit the first corner of the final lap; Aequa’s ahead of Indol now, recovered enough to push me forward at full speed again, and Indol—despite what he just did—is doing the same for Iro. I have nowhere to go unless I fall back. The noise is deafening. The ground a blur. Everything shudders and aches, especially my legs. Even Will can only do so much.

Iro, anger plain in every line, abruptly slews in toward me. The wheels of our chariots meet with a sheering screech; I can do little more than brace myself against the impact. He swings away and then does it again. And again. Reckless, now. Risking a crash for both of us as he tries to propel me into the inside railing. He can’t get the momentum or the angle, though. I hold steady.

And I have the inside track now. One corner left.

Iro snarls as he comes in again, but this time, he leans out of his blue chariot just after he makes contact. I sway away, unable to fend him off with my one arm concerned far more with steering and holding on. Both our wheels sound like they’re about to shatter as they grind together.

He doesn’t swing for me, though. Instead he grips the edge of my chariot. His eyes are pitch-black as they look into mine.

When he lets go again, I can sense a new source of Will.

My chariot.

“Vek.” I mouth the word to myself. Frozen. Iro, the idiot, has just imbued at least some of the Will reserved for his own safety. Probably all of it, if he’s actually going to try and affect anything with it. It’s an incredible move—imbuing something as complex as the chariot in an instant, while doing what we’re doing, would in any other context be nothing short of brilliant. I’m less inclined to marvel right now, though.

Iro’s backed off a few feet, this time with a wild, contorted grin. I start to feel the wood beneath my feet shudder. Tip. He’s not wasting time. I consider using my Will-enhanced legs to damage the wood myself, maybe make him lose his imbuing, but I know straight away it won’t work. He’s too close, will be able to see and therefore adjust to the difference.

My desperation mounts. Iro’s Will pulses. Beneath my feet. Under my hand as I grip the frame desperately.

I lock a mental picture of the chariot in my mind.

Connection.

Just like with the boulder earlier: one moment I can merely sense the Will and the next it’s mine, an extension of me, as surely as if I’d imbued it myself. My chariot creaks and settles back onto both wheels. Across from me, Iro is almost comically confused as he looks across in shock. No telling whether he can no longer sense the Will, or whether he simply can’t control it anymore.

Final corner.

Iro screams his rage at being thwarted, swinging out farther than before and then angling in hard. Too hard. I’m marginally ahead of him now we’ve hit the curve, but not far enough; there’s no doubt he’s going to hit me. Ram me and take himself out in the process, because there’s no way his chariot will survive this impact. He’s decided it’s better to have no winner, than to let me take the victory.

On instinct, I drag the Will from the chariot—Iro’s Will—into my body. Feel a flush as I strengthen myself. A flash of relief as I register that now, I’m probably not going to die.

And then I realise that Iro very well may.

He thinks he’s lost track of his Will, not that I’ve taken it. He thinks that when my chariot disintegrates as it’s about to, he’s going to get that Will back. A gamble—he’d have to self-imbue virtually as the Will returned to him—but a logical one.

It’s a split second. Barely time for the thought to cross my mind as Iro’s stone wheel bears down on me.

I drop the chain from around my waist, calculate, and leap.

Iro’s eyes are wide, a frozen moment in time as he passes amidst the dust and rattling and screaming stone. From the corner of my vision I see him start to correct, to swerve, to avoid what would now be a pointless sacrifice by smashing into my newly driver-less green chariot. Then the shock of the landing jars my teeth as I skid along in a cloud of sand that takes him from view. Iro’s extra Will in my body, and the slower pace of the corner, allowing me to decelerate in a relatively controlled slide. In the back of my mind, I desperately keep my connection to Aequa’s chariot. Keep moving her forward, even through all of this.

There’s a screeching from outside my choking, blinding cloud. A rending of wood and stone. A scream. More violent dust and I see a glimpse, barely a shadow, of Iro’s blue chariot flipping end over end. Empty.

The pulses in my mind tell me Aequa’s past and Indol is getting farther back, losing momentum.

The brown haze clears just enough for me to watch the seventh golden dolphin tip as Aequa crosses the finish line.