The Thorn Harbour Road Rally [Or, Macalley Takes the Wheel] Read online

  “Sounds quite messy,” Priscilla said with a smile.

  “Not if applied properly,” I replied.

  “And now,” Clamour said, “the real stars of the show...our racers!”

  The crowd applauded politely as Clamour announced the entrants one by one. Strahlkogel and the other dwarfs drove their car up to the starting line, followed by Talbot and Clement. Holsapple, Lulu, and the Flivver were next; the Professor made it a point to pose for a photographer who was working for the newspaper. As Bludergard and Stibbins took their position, I noticed that Quick and Goldbloom were having a discussion with what struck me as a quiet urgency. “There’s something odd going on,” I said half to myself.

  “You’re right,” Priscilla said. “There are only five racers.” As she spoke, Oakton’s motorcar pulled up to the line. “But who’s missing?”

  I put the pieces together, and my heart stopped for a moment. “Clarinda. Come along!” I jumped from my seat and ran from the grandstand, Macally and Priscilla following.

  ***

  I hurried back towards the racers’ area, rushing past the guard, and gasped when I saw Clarinda. She was sitting on the ground next to her motorcar, her legs stretched out in front of her, a medic working on her right ankle. “Ye gods!” I exclaimed. “What happened?”

  “It was an accident,” Augustus said. “She had just finished checking the carriage, but the jack snapped as she was moving out from underneath the motorcar.”

  “Oh no!” I knelt by Clarinda. “Are you all right?”

  “My ankle was broken,” Clarinda said sadly. “Even when the healer’s done, I’ll need to keep my weight off it for a while. I won’t be able to race today.”

  “Wait a minute,” Priscilla said as she and Macalley joined us. “Couldn’t Augustus drive, with you as a passenger?”

  “I’ve never learned how to drive one of these things,” Augustus said. “And a race like this wouldn’t be a good time to learn.”

  “That’s it, then.” Clarinda shook her head. “There goes my chance to earn money for the library.”

  “A shame,” Macalley said. “But perhaps Madame Alice will allow you to join us for lunch…”

  I stared at Clarinda’s motorcar as he spoke. That was the moment when the mad idea hit me, and I realized there was no time to lose. “Lunch will have to wait,” I said as I took my driving gloves out of my handbag.

  “Your pardon, madame?” Macalley raised an eyebrow.

  “You’re not!” Clarinda said.

  I pulled my gloves on. “You can borrow Augustus’ helmet and goggles, Macalley. I’ll use Clarinda’s.”

  Clarinda started to laugh as she handed me her goggles. “This is insane,” she said.

  “Mad!” Augustus said with a smile.

  “Completely and utterly bonkers.” I grinned.

  “I have trouble disagreeing with any of you,” Macalley said as he donned his helmet. “What shall we do with the picnic basket?”

  “Bring it with us. This will offset any complaints about our combined weight being too light.”

  “Very good, madame.” Macalley set the basket in the back seat of Clarinda’s motorcar and took the passenger’s seat.

  “Augustus, let the officials know what’s transpiring. Macalley and I need to move quickly.”

  “You must be joking,” Priscilla said as she caught on to my plan.

  “Not in the slightest.” I climbed into the motorcar and removed my hat, setting it in my lap. “I will join in the race, driving Clarinda’s motorcar in her stead, and I will win and give the prize money to the library.”

  “The others are experienced drivers!” Priscilla said as she ran up to the motorcar. “You won’t stand a chance of winning!”

  “Only if we don’t get started right away.” I put on my helmet and tightened the strap. “We’ll need to catch up to the others as it is.”

  “But what about lunch?”

  “Macalley? Would you give Priscilla one of our sandwiches so she won’t starve before we return?”

  “Of course, madame.” Macalley bent over the back seat and reached into the basket.

  “But those roads! Those speeds!” Priscilla said as she took the sandwich. “It won’t be safe! You could get yourself killed, Alice!”

  “But me no more buts.” I started the motorcar and shifted into gear. “Be a dear and watch my hat while I’m gone?” I said as I handed it to Priscilla.

  I drove out of the racers’ area, towards the starting line. Behind me, Priscilla shouted, “I’ll be sure to wear it to your funeral!”

  ***

  We could see the smoke and sparks as we left the racers’ area, and Quick and Goldbloom were by the starting line, waving flags that had a checkered pattern. The crowd was cheering as Clamour shouted, “And they’re off to a clean start in the first Thorn Harbour Road Rally!”

  “The race appears to have started without us, madame,” Macalley said as the racers drove out of sight.

  “How impolite,” I said. “We shall have to have a word with them after we win.”

  I saw Clamour stare at us as we approached the starting line, and the looks of surprise from the grandstand. Augustus ran up to him and the officials. A moment later we heard Clamour say, through his megaphone, “Ladies and gentlemen, we have a change to announce. The motorcar originally to be crewed by Topping and Thurston will instead be driven by Alice Peavley and her valet Macalley!”

  To my surprise, the crowd started to cheer. I waved to them as I stepped on the accelerator, and I smiled as the motorcar picked up speed and crossed the starting line.

  We passed quickly through the streets of Darbyfield and were soon past the town’s boundaries. I would normally have gone at a slower pace up the hill just outside of town, enjoying the drive, as my manor is on the road to Thorn Harbour. Today was no time to dally, so I accelerated once we had left town, rushing past the turnoff that led to home. “Any sign of the other drivers?” I asked Macalley.

  He peered intently up the hill. “Not that I can tell, madame.”

  “They must be on the other side of the hill. We’ll catch them,” I said with a confidence that did not match what I was starting to feel. Had I bitten off more than was easily chewable? Could I win, or was I just making an ass of myself again?

  As we neared the top of the hill, I glanced up and was jolted out of my thoughts. A woman was leaning out of a tree and shouting into a megaphone, “And here she comes now, Tony! Alice Peavley, who electrified the crowd with her late and unexpected entry into the race, is passing my position, with her faithful valet Macalley at her side!”

  “What on Earth was that all about?” I said half to myself as we passed.

  “The megaphone appeared to be enchanted, madame,” Macalley said. “I believe her words were being broadcast to the crowd in the grandstand in Darbyfield.”

  “An odd idea.”

  “It does make some sense, madame. They keep the crowd appraised of what is going on, and build excitement for the finish of the race.”

  “And keep Priscilla entertained while she eats her sandwich,” I said with a half-smile.

  “Are you hinting at something, madame?”

  “Not yet, Macalley. For now, only the open road and the thrill of the race will…”

  I paused in mid-boast as we reached the crest of the hill. Vic Fry, the old dairy farmer who owned the field next to my manor house, was there, walking with his favorite goat, Bernadette; he felt that a stroll every Sunday led to her giving more flavorful milk for the family cheese. He waved urgently at me as I approached. “Miss Peavley?” he shouted.

  Fry is a wonderful soul, don’t get me wrong, and most times I would have gladly stopped to say hello, but there was the matter of a race to attend to. “Dreadfully sorry, Fry,” I said as we passed. “No time to chat!”

  “But there’s trouble ahead!” I heard Fry say as we rounded a curve. “Be careful!”

  “Trouble?” I said to myself.

>   “Perhaps Harrisburg and Ogden are quarreling again,” Macalley said.

  “No. We would have heard them by now.”

  “A valid point, madame…” Macalley seemed to squint behind his goggles as I glanced at him. “I do believe Master Fry was right. We should reduce our speed a tad.”

  “Slow down?” I said, trying not to sound too indignant at the suggestion. “Macalley, I need to catch up with the other racers!”

  “I understand, madame. You’re approaching one of them.” Macalley pointed ahead. I gasped and quickly stepped on the brake.

  The motorcar driven by Strahlkogel and the other dwarves had collided with a sturdy tree. The front of the motorcar was crumpled, and smoke was pouring from the engine. Strahlkogel was examining the wreckage, keeping one eye on the road, while the other dwarves were digging into the dirt with their hands. “Ye Gods!” I said, slowing to a stop as I neared them. “Are you all right?”

  “We are, thank you,” Strahlkogel said.

  “How did this happen?”

  The dwarf gestured at the road. “Someone planted these caltrops in the dirt.” He held up a small, nasty-looking piece of metal with four sharp points. “We were in the lead, but we ran over some of these and blew out our tires. We lost control of the motorcar and crashed.”

  “What a despicable trick.” I scowled at the thought of someone stooping so low.

  “We’re trying to get all the caltrops out.”

  Ringelspitz looked up and added, “At least the other racers were able to get around this.”

  “How?” I asked.

  Strahlkogel pointed to the side of the road. I could see the tyre and other tracks in the grass as they wound through a gap in a row of roadside shrubbery. “Lot of traffic today,” he said.

  I shifted the motorcar into reverse and backed up. “Good luck!” I shouted as I shifted back into gear and steered towards the shrubbery.

  “And you,” Strahlkogel said.

  Ringelspitz glanced at me as I waved and sped off. “Is that Topping’s motorcar she’s driving?”

  ***

  We were soon back on our way to Thorn Harbour, picking up the pace as best as we could. The stretch of road we were on was straight and flat, but we still had to be cautious of passers-by, as the handful of people we saw along the way were not in as big of a hurry as we.

  The straightaway ended as we neared Thorn Harbour, along the edge of the Windward Forest. When the road had been laid out many years ago, its path ran through a grove of old and beautiful elder pines. The elves claimed that those trees were guarded by dryads.

  No one in the Emerald Dell could ever recall having seen a dryad, but they still consulted with a scholar who specialized in creatures of the woods. The scholar described, in great and gory detail, what the legends claimed dryads would do to those who would so much as knock a needle off a branch. After that, everyone involved swore solemnly and quickly to leave those trees be, and the road was laid out to wind around them.

  The elder pines grew mostly along the north side of the road, and the long shadows they cast darkened the twisting path. I slowed the motorcar slightly as we approached as a precaution, but I had to risk traveling at an unsafe speed if I were to have any chance of catching the other racers.

  Because of this, I didn’t see the monster until it was almost too late. It lurched out of the ground ahead of us, human in shape but with a grotesquely oozing form, and a horrible featureless face with bulging eyes. It waved its arms menacingly in the air, spitting and moaning as it strode towards my motorcar. I shrieked with terror, losing my nerve as I beheld the horrible sight.

  The monster paused, and in that moment I found my resolve. I hit the brakes and turned the steering wheel. As the motorcar slid to a sideways stop, the creature took another step towards me. I clenched my fists in defiance. “You will not take me without a fight, monster!” I shouted.

  “Perhaps there’ll be no need for one, madame.”

  I looked back at Macalley, and I wasn’t sure what astonished me more, his placid demeanor or the bottle of seltzer water he was holding. “Macalley?” I said. “Have you taken leave of your senses?”

  “Not yet, madame.” Macalley smoothly uncorked the seltzer bottle. He placed his thumb over the bottle’s mouth, shook it vigorously and aimed it at the monster.

  The water shot from the bottle, hitting the monster in its face. I was surprised to see the spray wash away the creature’s appearance. As the mud that had covered him slid off, I realized that the “monster” was, in fact, Rodley Talbot, and what had seemed to be a pair of bulging eyes was actually his racing goggles.

  He gestured towards Macalley, who nodded and handed him what was left of the seltzer water. “He must have swallowed some mud,” Macalley said as Talbot rinsed out his mouth. “That would be why he couldn’t speak coherently.”

  Talbot drank the last drops of the seltzer and stared at me. “Alice...Peavley?” he said.

  I flushed with embarrassment. “I do apologize for calling you a monster, Talbot.”

  “Think nothing of it. But what the devil are you doing in Topping’s motorcar?”

  “Clarinda suffered an injury just before the race was to start, so I took her place.”

  “This bloody afternoon has had too many unpleasant surprises,” Talbot said. “Will she be all right?”

  “Yes, with rest. If I may ask…”

  Talbot sighed. “Someone planted a trap. They dug a hole in the road, filled it with mud, and covered it with twigs and leaves. We were in the lead after Strahlkogel’s car crashed, so we hit it first. Good thing the other racers avoided it.”

  My eyes had adjusted to the dark, and I could make out Talbot’s motorcar in the muck that he had crawled out of. “What happened to Clement?” I asked.

  “He set off on foot for Thorn Harbour to get help.”

  “And notify the race officials?”

  “He’ll make some calls, and I’ve asked him to send someone to help get the motorcar out of the ditch. But you’re losing time.” Talbot pointed with a muddy hand towards the side of the road. “That way will get you around all the muck.”

  “But what about you?” I asked.

  “Go win the race. I’ll deal with this mess.” Talbot grinned. “I haven’t played this much in mud since I was eight.” I laughed and thanked him as I drove off.

  ***

  We were quickly past the mud trap and back on the road. Within minutes, we had passed the last of the tall trees and were on the downhill path to Thorn Harbour. The sun was lighting up the many buildings, the tall apartments and the shops. We could see the ships on the water in the inlet, sailing into the wharf or out to the many other cities and towns along the Crescent Sea, and the rail line that was under construction, connecting Thorn Harbour to the Velessan Isles and the cities beyond.

  I felt memories stir as we sped into the city. It had been my home from the time I had started university until I had inherited the manor from Uncle Clarence, and a touch of nostalgia slipped into my thoughts as I drove through the familiar streets. I have come to dearly appreciate Darbyfield and its people, but I will always remember Thorn Harbour fondly.

  A small crowd had gathered near Hargraves’ Fountain in the center of the city; the race’s route led around it and back out along a different street. I smiled faintly as I remembered many a lunch break spent there, sharing a laugh with Priscilla or reading a new book. There was another announcer with an enchanted megaphone, seated on a high podium, watching me pass. “And it’s our last remaining racer, Alice Peavley!” he shouted as we looped around the fountain. “She’s made up ground after her late start, but she’s still running behind the other three racers!” The crowd applauded as we drove away.

  There were signs with arrows and the words “race route” that indicated our path out of the city, but I already knew the way, and I grinned as we came upon a familiar sight. Thorn Harbour Books, where I had worked prior to inheriting the manor, was a short wa
lk from the fountain. As we approached the front door, I saw the bookshop’s owner, my friend Mabel, among the crowd in the street. “Hello, Mabel!” I shouted with a hearty wave. I suspect someday she’ll forgive me for the shock I gave her, and for laughing at the astonished expression on her face as we passed.

  ***

  As Macalley and I left Thorn Harbour and started back towards Darbyfield, I was able to bring Clarinda’s motorcar up to its top speed for most of the first few miles. I did have to steer around the riders, wagons and carts, heading to and from the other nearby towns and villages. Elves heading to late dinners or secret trysts, families off to see a distant relative, dwarfish brewers with fresh kegs of ale—I sped past all of them and more as we headed on our way.

  The road soon took us deep into the Windward Forest, home to numerous squirrels, a handful of elves trying to get back to nature and then write a book about their experiences, and the occasional bear. The oak and maple trees there had never been touched by loggers, and had grown to wondrous heights and in many directions. As marvelous a sight as it was, it was also somewhat dangerous, as their branches were hanging low along the left side of the road. Under normal circumstances, I would have let Macalley drive, as due to his shorter frame, his head was less likely to collide with a stray limb. However, these circumstances were a rather long distance from normal, so I crouched down ever so slightly and tried to concentrate, pushing all stray thoughts aside.

  Even with two other motorcars having been eliminated, I was still concerned about our chances. I hadn’t seen the other three racers who remained as I traveled through Thorn Harbour, but I had to assume that they were ahead of me, and I feared again that our late start might have dealt a fatal blow to our hope for victory.

  This all goes to explain why, when I rounded a bend and beheld the golden motorcar ahead of us, for the first and most likely last time in my life I was actually overjoyed to see Bludergard. He was leaning back in the passenger’s seat of his car, his feet propped up on the dashboard as Stibbins drove. “Macalley!” I exclaimed.