Tales of the Zodiac - The Goat's Tale Read Online Free PDF Page B

little less grey. The first thing I see is the city of Tallakarn and, majestic in the distance, the white towers of the palace. The second thing I see is two tiny grey dots approximately halfway between me and the great city. The race is on.
    The competitive spirit rages so strong in a boy like me that, all of a sudden, it is as though my body has reset. Everything becomes easier now, my stride lengthens and my pace quickens. I will catch them.
    The prince and his athletic cousin have not cheated. Or if they have, then they have returned to the track for the final few kilometres. Even from way off in the distance, I can picture the scene: Cai, at an effortless canter, looking on as the prince, puffing and red-faced, stumbles forward. I can imagine the protestations of the prince, his lack of self belief, theatrically moaning that he cannot possibly go on.
    The beauty of this scenario is that, as a pair, they are only as strong as their weakest link. I know with certainty that Cai will not allow himself to beat the prince. For him, chivalry and honour are impulses that are far too strong. And, even if he did decide to win the race for himself, I’d still only have to beat the prince and finish second in order to win the trophy.
    Another consideration that flashes through my mind is that Cai will attempt to physically thwart me in the manner that Tomos did at the start of the race. This eventuality does not concern me greatly; I am reasonably convinced that Cai is not of that nature. He is a strong, athletic boy but never a bully. In fact he is the kind of boy who fights bullies - a true, chivalric knight if ever there was one. Furthermore, I am not scared of him without his sword and bow.
    With every moment that passes, they become larger. Neither has turned their head as of yet and I wonder if this is through exhaustion or complacency. Do they know what Tomos was supposed to do to me? Do they know what, in fact, I have done to Tomos? A flush of hot blood pumps through me as I recall the boy incapacitated on the ground, leg presumably shattered. God only knows what has happened to him now. He has learned a difficult lesson.
    I must be moving two or three times faster than them at this point and, whilst this speed is partly aided by my descent of the hill, it is still fast enough that I shall be well ahead of them by the time they reach Tallakarn and the sweet embrace of the finish line.
    It is hard to accurately describe my feelings as I hurtle towards them, my body possessed by an almost supernatural numbness. Almost every pain in my body – my battle bruises, my heaving chest, my shredded feet – register to me as nothing but points of interest. I know they are there but I do not feel them. My reaction to them is that of a neutral observer.
    Cai looks round twice before he seems to realise. The distance and the dismal sky mean that I cannot yet make out his expression, but I should imagine that it is one of panic, the sensation of realising only too late that you are standing in the firing line of a charging billy goat. He knows as well as I do that the prince will not have the energy to increase his pace and, what is worse, he will not have the stomach to even try. I hear Cai shout to him.
    The prince looks round and, whilst I cannot see his face, I can see his head drop. He stumbles. The boy is too nice, too concerned, to be a competitor. I would imagine that, upon seeing me, his response would be only to doubt himself and slow down further. It seems clear to me in this instant that this is the difference between the two of us. If I had seen someone rapidly catching me, my only response would have been to grit my teeth and run faster. When someone like me is chasing someone like him, there will only ever be one winner.
     

Six
     
    I have only stood on the red rug of this royal reception room twice. And both times have been as a winner. The atmosphere this time, though, is markedly different to the first. I can’t