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Chase and Mouse scampered into the tower while I stayed on the ground with Grant.
“He’ll be alright.”
I started at Grant’s soft voice. He was staring down at me with a gentle expression. I gave him a sheepish smile and stared hard at the lined up thunders. “I’m not worried.”
He nodded at my hands I held in front of myself. “Then you might want to give your fingers a break.”
I looked down and found that I’d fidgeted so badly my fingers were nearly tangled together. “Oh. Right.” I pulled my fingers apart and wiped them on the sides of my pants.
“You really don’t need to worry that much about him,” Grant assured me as he studied at the crowd of thunders. “He’ll hold his own. It’s that magic trouble we have to worry about.”
“No need for that!” Mouse shouted from atop the tower as he held up his stick. “I’ve got my lucky stick with me!”
Chase glared at him. “That didn’t work the last time, you tyke.”
“It made that spinner vanish, didn’t it?” Mouse pointed out.
“That was after the trouble started.”
“Better late than never.”
My attention was captured by the roar of the crowd, or lack thereof, as their noise died down. All eyes turned to a small group of officials who strolled off the center green. I recognized the imperious figure of the elder official, Alastair Rask, as he strode onto the tract in front of the line of vehicles. He rapped on each hood as he passed, and he only paused when he came to one of the thunders in the middle. The official opened the hood and made a quick inspection of the interior before he slammed it shut and stabbed a finger at the opening to the arena. The driver of the thunder pulled out of the lineup and drove out of sight, to the jeers of the crowd.
“Must have a magic cylinder,” Mouse mused.
I lifted an eyebrow at him. “What’s that?”
“It’s where the driver attaches a magical device to any part of the engine to make it go faster,” Chase explained.
“No matter allowed, period,” Grant affirmed as he gave a nod. “Only sweat and bolts.”
“So how does he know there’s magic under the hood with just that tap?” I asked them.
Chase smiled down at me. “That old codger’s been at this so long he would know any part of an engine just by a single ping against it. If anything sounds off he’ll know it.”
Rask finished his inspection of the machines and the officials left the tract. To say I was nervous was an understatement as the engines were revved. The old official raised his hand and made sure the eyes of all the driver’s was on him. He dropped his arm and the driver’s shot off down the course.
The race had started.
CHAPTERTHIRTY-THREE
My eyes were peeledon Ben as the group raced past our position. The thunders bumped up and down over the rough terrain, flying through dust holes and zipping through shallow but long pools of water. I found myself twisting my fingers into knots again, but Grant didn’t scold me for it. He, too, was focused on the race.
The vehicles broke into smaller packs and Ben was in the lead group. They zipped past us and roared in tune with the hard thump of my heart every time one of Ben’s competitors drew close to his vehicle.
“How many turns around the course?” I asked my companions.
“Fifty.”
My heart sank. An eternity lay ahead of me.
How I wish I had experienced that eternity.
As I stood there in a subdued panic, the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. I frowned and looked around for the source, but I couldn’t perceive any reason for the sudden angst.
“Look!” Chase shouted.
I whipped my head back to the course. The lead group of thunders was approaching one of the water holes when the surface began to shift prematurely. The liquid raised itself out of the dip in the earth and stretched a hundred feet into the air.
