Chapter Four Hundred and Seventeen - Race Against Time

The airship race was due to start in about twenty-four hours, and the Shady Lady did not look ready for a race. In fact, she barely looked ready to fly at all.

Awen and Raynold had decided that with both of them working on the airship together, they’d have a much better chance of fixing and patching her up here and now, before the race would begin.

That seemed rather obvious to me, and I think to the rest of my friends too. Who wanted to race in a ship that wasn’t in good racing condition? But it was clear that that wasn’t how Abraham thought.

Awen and Reynold disagreed.

Which meant that for a good chunk of the rest of the day, I ended up serving as runny-bun for Awen and Raynold. She sent me back to the Beaver a half-dozen times with lists of parts to pick up, tools to grab, and scraps to return with.

Eventually Amaryllis and Caprica were roped into helping too. Awen returned to the Beaver and we temporarily stole the propeller off the Redemption as well as a few other small parts which were just about the right size to fit onto the Shady Lady.

Supper came and went, and I think we were all thankful that a few ingenious locals had set up street food stalls near the racer landing pads. It was the only way we’d get anything in our tummies since time was so short.

“This was a bad idea,” Awen admitted to me as she stared at a workbench covered in parts.

“What was?” I asked. I was currently holding onto one metal doohickey so that the hose within it didn’t detach from another metal doodad.

Awen gestured at the bench covered in thingywhatsits. “The more we dig, the more stuff we find that needs fixing. It’s a miracle that the Shady Lady could fly at all. But that means that we’re breaking things to fix them and then discovering more broken stuff underneath. If we hadn’t started digging, then things would still be working, even if poorly.”

"Maybe the Shady Lady could fly, but would she keep flying halfway through a stressful race?" I patted Awen's shoulder. "You're making her a lot safer."

Awen sighed. "Yes, but at what cost? The more we fix, the more things we find that are wrong. We might not be able to fix everything before the race starts."

"Just focus on the important parts," I said, trying to be supportive. "Make sure the engine is in the best shape possible. The other stuff can wait until after the race."

She gave me a small smile, "Thanks, Broccoli. You always know how to make me feel better." I smiled back, then she continued. “Even if you don’t know a thing about airship maintenance.”

I turned in my smile for a fresh new pout.

We continued to work into the night. Or at least, Awen and Raynold did. The rest of us did what we could to help, but it was clear that they were in their own little bubble, and the best we could do after a while was make sure they had what they needed as they continued to toil away at the Shady Lady.

“Do you think this is good for her?” I asked Amaryllis when we had a moment to ourselves.

Amaryllis huffed a ‘are you serious’ sort of huff. “This is perfect for her,” she said. “If it wasn’t for the lost time, then I’d say that this situation was almost entirely perfect for Awen’s growth.”

“Her growth?” I asked.

“She’s doing the kind of work that her class is made for, under heavy constraints with materials and time, and working on a ship that’s likely only held together by well-wishes and Abraham’s own skills,” Amaryllis said. “I’m no mechanic, Broccoli, but I am an Albatross of the Albatross family. I know airships, and that one shouldn’t be able to fly.”

“But... we’ve flown on it before,” I said.

“We crashed on it before,” she replied. “I’ll bet a tail feather that the Shady Lady only flies because Abraham is around to keep it afloat. Powerful skills can do powerful things. Powerful skills held by legendarily powerful people can do things that are practically miraculous. What Awen is doing is fixing the issues that Abraham’s abilities are covering for. And Raynold’s as well, I suppose. He’s quite strong in his own right.”

I nodded along, mostly understanding. It was true that Abraham was... Abraham, so that kind of thing was probably normal for him. And Raynold had as many classes as someone like Bastion did, which put him amongst the most powerful people around on most days.

“So when you say this is good for Awen, you mostly mean because of her class?”

“This is the equivalent of you walking into a castle-turned-landfill and spending a full day doing nothing but cleaning it,” Amaryllis said. “It’s the kind of event that’ll boost her levelling for her main class by leaps and bounds. That doesn’t happen everyday, and so... I’ll hold off on complaining too much about lost time.”

As the night wore on, it became clear that sleep was going to be a luxury that none of us could afford. Awen and Raynold continued their laborious task with little sign of slowing down. We set up a couple of tents for those of us who were going to stay onsite, then the others left back to the Beaver. That meant that in the end, it was just me and Awen and Calamity from our friend group who stayed. The others returned to sleep in their own bunks, which was entirely fair.

I found Awen sitting in front of the Shady Lady's mostly rebuilt engine, her eyes half-closed and her hands covered in grime. She was exhausted, there was no doubt about it, but there was also a glimmer of determination that stubbornly refused to be extinguished.

Walking over to her, I gently touched her shoulder. "Awen," I said softly.

She looked up at me, a sleepy smile tugging at her lips. "What is it, Broccoli?"

"You need to rest."

"But the race—" she began to protest, but a huge yawn cut her off mid sentence.

"The race is later," I insisted. "You've done enough. You've done more than enough." She opened her mouth to argue, but I held up a hand to stop her. "Awen, you're tired. And if you keep going like this, you'll be of no use during the race."

There was a long pause as she looked at me, her gaze wavering before finally, she nodded. "Alright," she said. "But just for a bit."

I quickly fetched a thick blanket that we’d gotten from the Beaver and a small mug of hot tea, then helped her settle down in a quiet corner. Abraham had found some ratty old couches and plopped them down to one side, a place for people to sit while he told one of his stories. Now it was a place to lay Awen down and wrap her in the blanket.

I made sure she was nice and snug, then sat next to her, and arm wrapped around her back. I thought maybe we could chat a little, but before I could think of what to say, Awen’s head started to dip and I had to carefully grab her mug before she spilled it.

As she snuggled into the warm cocoon I had created for her, I couldn't help but smile. Even amidst the chaos and stress of the race preparations, there was a certain peacefulness to this moment. Smoulderglen might have had a poor reputation, but it was the quietest city I’d visited. The air was warm, but it was a dry warmth that felt nice, and there was a soothingly cool breeze coming that smelled faintly of wood fires. It was the quiet before the storm, the gentle pause before the thundering roar of the airship race.

With Awen safely asleep, I left her to rest and returned to the Shady Lady. There was still work to do before the race and while Awen rested, the rest of us would continue with the preparations.

I cleaned up after their work. Raynold had finished up and was happy for the very little bit of help I could give him tucking tools away. Mostly taking tools back off the ship and putting them in their place and sweeping away the debris that was too big for my Cleaning magic to handle.

The Shady Lady could probably use a fresh coat of paint, but at least she’d be the cleanest ship in the race, which counted for a lot. My mom used to say that if you couldn’t be pretty you should at least be clean.

Just as the first rays of dawn began to break, I heard the familiar sound of my friends approaching. Caprica, Abraham, and Amaryllis trudged toward us, their hands full of steaming containers of breakfast from one of the food stalls. They all wore determined smiles, ready for the day's challenge.

“I hope you're hungry, Broccoli,” Caprica greeted, setting down a container of hot buns and a flask of something that smelled suspiciously like coffee. The aroma wafted over, filling the air with a comforting scent.

“I could eat,” I replied, taking a seat next to Awen's sleeping form. Amaryllis chuckled, handing over a wrapped parcel filled with some local breakfast pastry, its edges brown and crisp.

As we ate, we discussed the plan for the day. Abraham would be at the helm, his expert piloting skills crucial to navigating the treacherous racing course. He had apparently studied the course in depth and had gotten very drunk with one of the organisers and into a fist-fight with some of the other racers.

I wasn’t sure how the last helped, but he assured me that it did.

Raynold was gonna be onboard too, of course, to do quick repairs and to fight off the competition.

“What, uh, sort of race is this?” I asked.

“The kind that puts you through the wringer, lass," Abraham responded, his voice muffled as he chewed on a bun. He washed it down with a gulp of coffee before continuing. “The course, y'see, it isn't just a straight sprint. Oh no, it's an avalanche of risks, challenges, and hairpin turns. Think of it as a gauntlet, only those deserving and cunning and quick enough will pass! Haha!” he continued, leaning back and gazing up at the sky. “We'll be racing through cloud clusters and treacherous wind gusts, trying to avoid sudden squalls, and navigating through floating debris. Not to mention the competition! There are no rules against a bit of friendly roughhousing here!”

As Abraham described the chaos, it struck me how dangerous this race truly was. There was the excitement of it, of course, the thrill and the glory, but there was also a very real possibility of disaster. One wrong move, one delayed reaction, and it could all come crashing down. We could all come crashing down. Into the ground. Or possibly into a cliffside, or someone's house.

“But... what about the officials? The city? Aren't they concerned about safety?” I asked, the nerves clearly audible in my voice.

Abraham let out a hearty laugh. “Lass, it's all about the spectacle. People come to see the danger, the near-misses, the dramatic chases. Safety? That's up to each crew to maintain. Besides,” he added, his grin broadening, “there's nothing quite like the thrill of surviving by the skin of your teeth.”

I looked around at our ragtag crew - Awen, still asleep but filled with a determination that was almost palpable, Caprica and Amaryllis and Calamity, their faces reflecting a mix of excitement and trepidation, and Abraham, his eyes filled with a fire that was contagious--I found myself smiling, despite the nervous butterflies in my tummy.

“So, can we come?” I asked.

“No,” Amaryllis said. “Not only is it foolish to even try, the teams are set from the start. There are crew limits, and we couldn’t all fit on the Shady Lady to begin with.”

“Well, maybe not all of us, but a few?” I asked.

Amaryllis gave me a flat look. “No, Broccoli. We’ve done what we can to help. Abraham and Raynold will have to face the race on their own.”

“Haha! Don’t worry, lasses and lad! I’ve lost more races than you can imagine!”

“Wait, lost?” I asked.

That wasn’t reassuring at all!

***