"Good afternoon Cloud Race fans!” Shouted the commentator, Maffett, through a magically enhanced megaphone in the balloon that floated over the Windy Valley Raceway in north east of Equestria. “We’ve had a thrilling day of racing but that’s just been a pre-cursor to this, the final race of today’s Windy Valley Amateur Cloud Racing Club meeting!”
The small crowd that gathered in the grand stands and on clouds around the hilly circuit cheered as the competing Pegasi finished talking among themselves on the grid and stretching and moved to their positions. Concorde had earned himself pole position for this race and took a moment to hammer the cloud flat with his hind hooves. The circuit was constructed entirely from clouds, floating no more than a meter off the ground. As with every meeting, the circuit had been pushed into shape that morning and was starting to show some wear and tear. The sighting lap he had completed barely a minute ago revealed some of the cloud barriers around the track could use some repair, but should hold up.
“With two race victories so far today, stood on the pole position is the local favourite: Concorde!” Maffett announced over the commentary. Concorde gave the small crowd a quick salute before getting back to carefully arranging the cloud to give himself a better kick off, as well as stretching out his hind legs. He was a tall and thin stallion, his windswept scarlet mane hidden under an open face white helmet with scarlet lightning bolts running across the top. His brilliant white body was also hidden under an equally white, tight fitting suit that had a scarlet streak running down his sides and hind legs, the number fifty two on his flank. His short, windswept scarlet tail poking out of a hole in the back of his suit. A good start was always important and Concorde wanted to make sure he got off the line as quickly as possible so he could escape his rival.
“In second position, the Bavarian Bullet himself: Wolke!”
Concorde looked over his shoulder to see the sand coloured Wolke in the second position of the first row. The small, sandy coloured stallion was wearing blue overalls with the number fifteen on his flank and was going through the same preparations Concorde was. They had been fierce rivals for the last four years, frequently coming to blows on track that had left them both in various cloud barriers around Windy Valley Raceway.
Why exactly Wolke made the long train journey to Windy Valley every month was still beyond Concorde, especially as Wolke could easily go to the Oldenburgring which was practically next door to Wolke’s hometown of Rottaler. Perhaps there was no other Cloud Racing Pegasi that could match Wolke on his day anywhere else. Concorde hadn’t bothered asking yet.
Happy with his preparations and ignoring Maffett’s continued run down of the twenty four Pegasi grid, with four ponies per row, Concorde pulled down his goggles and arranging them so they were comfortable and lined up perfectly in his helmet. He personally preferred to have the wind whistling through his ears as he raced flew, but the safety conscious had long ago won the argument that racing at any organised level required helmets and goggles.
He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. The world around him seemingly melting away as sound became nothing more than a distant echo and the unimportant scenery around him went out of focus.
There was only the track ahead of him and the enemy behind.
His mind was calm as he visualised the track. The downhill right hoof first corner, the climb up to the right hoof hairpin before going downhill again into a left hoof turn and flying along the edge of the Windy Valley.
Then, the track veered left and he’d be heading steeply down into the valley, keeping his eyes peeled for the wooden markers the track owners set up to show where the track was meant to go.
Concorde had gotten the series of sweeping right hoof bends down to an art, barely glancing each marker with the tip of his wing and keeping more than enough momentum to make the climb back up out of the valley and into one more right hoof turn, between the old stone grandstands and back onto the start/finish line.
One lap.
Fifty four seconds.
Only one other pony had been able to match Concorde’s time around Windy Valley, and that was the pony stood on the second position.
His nerves faded away, replaced by an almost insane level of confidence. He could do anything.
One of the officials showed a board which, so far as Concorde could see, had random marks scribbled on it but he knew what it meant.
Ten seconds until the race would start.
Concorde instinctively snapped his gaze to the starter, an old unicorn who levitated a green flag. Concorde brought both his hind legs forwards a bit and lowered himself, looking like a lioness ready to pounce on her prey. He also pushed his hind hooves into the cloud and angled them, giving himself the best possible position to push off, all the time not taking his unblinking eyes off the green flag.
His heart beat slowed to a deep, echoing crawl as all other noises faded away into nothing. That flag was everything and as it started its descent downwards, Concorde was off.
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“The Flag drops and Concorde and Wolke dive ahead, they have almost 3 lengths on the next pony already!” Shouted Maffett’s co-commentator, an old Earth Pony called Brundle who had worked as a commentator for the main Equestrian Cloud Racing series. “And as they head towards the hairpin for the first time Concorde has the lead!”
“I’m looking forwards to this, Brundle.” Maffett interjected as the leaders started to skirt along the edge of the valley having turned left after the hairpin. “Both of these ponies have been looking strong all day and this is our first chance to see them go for it for potentially the whole race.”
“I hope you’ll enjoy the noise as they head down into the valley for the first time. These two can and will hit supersonic speeds down there!” Brundle continued, his commentary confirmed as two sonic booms cracked one after another from inside the valley. From their vantage point, they could just about see down into the valley and they could see Concorde and Wolke leaving their scarlet and sandy yellow trails in their respective wakes.
Maffett noticed one of the younger Pegasi towards the back miss the apex of the first valley turn and tumbled into the cloud barrier below.
“Oh and we have our first crasher.” Maffett said, jabbing Brundle in the shoulder to stop his commentary about how Concorde and Wolke were fighting for the club championship “I think that was number seventy four Nimbus, tumbling through the cloud barrier at the bottom of the valley. Looks like she’s recovered already, but she’s got some work to do to catch back up with the pack.”
“That’s disappointing,” Brundle continued. “Nimbus has been showing so much improvement today and it’s a real shame she may not get a good result now.”
“And as the leaders come over the top of the valley and across the line to finish their first of twenty laps, Concorde leads Wolke by only half a second. Cloud Glider is almost three seconds behind after only one lap!” Maffett continued, internally cheering on her long time friend as he led down the hill for the second lap.
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Seven laps ticked by and now Concorde was getting slightly paranoid. Wolke had followed in his wing tracks for the whole race so far and not made any attempt to pass. The crafty Bavarian was clearly watching his lines, biding his time and using Concorde’s slipstream to make flying easier. Concorde would have preferred it if Wolke just made a move.
As they turned down into the valley for the eighth time, Concorde instinctively pressed his front hooves together in front of his face and angled his wings back to provide as little drag as possible while still retaining some form of control. Within moments, he hit the sound barrier, leaving an expanding ring and a trail of scarlet in his wake, but something was different this time.
So far as he could tell, there wasn’t a second boom.
As the corner approached, Concorde realized one of two things could have happened. One, Wolke could have crashed after he had looked last, which was when they went through the hairpin, or two, Wolke was close enough that his own boom had muffled Wolke’s and he was going to try and make the pass Concorde had been anticipating.
With the corner approaching fast, Concorde went for the second option and moved early towards the corner to block any attempt for Wolke to pass. As soon as he turned into the first right, he realized his mistake as he missed the apex of the next corner and practically opened the door for Wolke to sail past as they went back up the valley.
Concorde beat his wings as hard as he could to make sure he was still within a second of Wolke as they reached the top. Having gone wide, Concorde had somehow managed to keep slightly more momentum then Wolke and attempted to pass around the outside of the last corner, slightly outside the limits of the track. His wing cut through the cloud barrier in front of the stone grandstand as they drew level across the line, to the cheers of those in the grandstand.
Concorde held Wolke as tight to the next corner as he could, the Bavarian pony seemingly determined not to yield the place but as the pair angled their wings to scrub off enough speed to make the turn, Wolke drifted wide and gave Concorde more than enough room to cut back up the inside as they went down the first corner hill and back up into the hairpin, regaining the lead.
As they turned left to race alongside the valley again, Concorde looked beyond the apex of the corner and back up the track, catching a glimpse of Wolke within what he guess was a half second of him before he focused his gaze forwards again. Concorde was prepared for another passing attempt in the valley, but as he started to turn, he noticed something out of the corner of his eye.
Wolke had already dived into the space he was about to occupy for the next corner. Concorde re-angled his wings to avoid flying into Wolke and slotted directly in behind him, furious he had allowed the Bavarian pony through so easily.
Concorde ignored the loud cheers from the crowd as they enjoyed the close battle while he followed the Bavarian pony down into the valley, Wolke’s sonic boom muffling his own as he was so close.
Concorde stuck in Wolke’s slipstream through the valley’s turns and back up towards the last corner.
He had the momentum, but Wolke had already taken the inside line, so Concorde dived around the outside.
The only other detail he remembered was, as they approached the grand stand, he felt Wolke’s flank bump into his shoulder.
Concorde was lying on a cloud, unsure exactly how he got there. All he knew was the aching pain, the taste of blood and the desire to carry on.
He tried to spread his wings, but one was trapped under his body.
He tried to release it, but every muscle protested in unison and refused to move as his vision darkened.
Before his vision faded entirely to black, he faintly recognised something red waving in the distance through his cracked goggles.