If it was still night—or even early morning—why the voices? It sounded like half the village was gathered outside.
“My crops will be ruined!” came one.
“It’s the gods. They must be mad at us,” said another.
“But why?!” burst another voice, even louder. “Why are the gods so angry?”
“I told you, because of what is here. In these old stables. Show us, boy!”
This voice belonged to a woman. It seemed familiar, but Pippa couldn’t identify the speaker. She didn’t need to though, to feel the jolt of fear. The woman was talking about Tazo.
Tazo was awake now too, his wings slightly raised, glimmering in the dim light in the stables. His eyes shone, and his nostrils were flared wide with fright.
Pippa’s hands shook as she frantically looked for something to hide him with.
But she didn’t have time.
The doors flung open, letting in more starry light and the heavy smell of salt. Although Pippa had never been to the sea, she imagined this is what it smelled like.
Tazo gave a frightened snort, shying back, as the crowd surged into the stables. Gasps and cries of surprise and shock filled the air.
Nikon stood up front, with a lantern, shaking his head in disbelief. Bas stood beside him, his face twisted in dismay.
How could he? Pippa’s heart thumped with anger, but then his eyes met hers.
“I’m sorry,” Bas mouthed, and he gave her such an apologetic look she knew this wasn’t his doing.
It was Leda’s. The crone hobbled forward, wheezing as she spoke. “A winged horse.” She pointed at Tazo.
“Oh, Pippa, what have you done?” murmured Helena. Beside her, Astrea gasped.
The colt snorted and showed the whites of his eyes. His ears were flattened on his head, and his tail clamped down.
“Shh. It’s okay. It’s okay,” Pippa soothed.
Pippa kept stroking and talking to him until, at last, Tazo’s trembling stopped and he was quiet.
“Where did he come from? How did he get here?” came a villager’s voice.
“The gods must have sent him,” said another.
“No, can’t you see? He’s Zeph’s,” piped Astrea.
There was a collective murmuring. “The winged horse’s colt . . . Can it be?”
“Zephyr’s colt or not, it shouldn’t be here.” Leda’s crackly voice silenced them. “Poseidon is in charge of the seas and all horses too. No wonder the salt water poured from the sky. Poseidon does not want his steed on mortal soil. He is punishing us for keeping it here.” Leda glared at Nikon.
“I haven’t seen the creature before now,” Nikon cried, raising his hands in the air.
“No, perhaps not,” replied Leda. Once again, she pointed accusingly at Pippa. “I saw her bring it back yesterday from the hills, during the storm.”
Everyone stared at Pippa, and she felt her skin prickle under their gaze.
“I found him in the woods. He was hurt,” Pippa explained, trying to keep her voice calm.
“And so you brought him here? And you didn’t tell me?” said Nikon. He didn’t seem angry, only full of astonishment. He turned to his son. “Basileus! You should have—”
“It’s not Bas’s fault. And the colt isn’t doing any harm . . . ,” stammered Pippa.
“Harm?! He’s a curse,” spat Leda.
“A curse?” Pippa shook her head. “But he’s just a colt. With wings. He’s a gift.”
“Ha!” Leda spat again. “Zephyr’s son has the wings that he himself lost. You might see this as a gift. But I know the truth. I know a thing or two about curses.”
Her fingers curled around the cloak covering her head, and she threw it back . . . to reveal gold!
Instead of the white locks of an old woman, her hair glistened in the lantern light, like Helena’s finest brooch. Leda rapped it with her knuckles.
“Yes, it really is gold,” she said. “Now you all know my secret. I am a descendant of the great King Midas.”
Gasps and exclamations filled the old stable, as Leda went on.
“King Midas, as many of you know, had a lust for gold, so he asked the gods to grant him a golden touch. You don’t ask things of the gods. You only give. But King Midas asked, and the gods granted his wish. At first, he saw it as a gift. Until he realized that everything he touched became gold: the food he wanted to eat, the water he wanted to drink, even his own daughter. He begged to have the curse reversed. Luckily, the gods took pity on him and took it away.” Leda paused. “Most of you know this story. But you don’t know the rest. When his daughter was brought back to life, her hair was never the same. It remained gold. And her daughter’s hair was gold, and her daughter’s daughter. And now, mine.”
“But golden hair, that’s not a curse . . . ,” said Helena.
“Not a curse!” Leda laughed. “You think it’s a blessing to be weighed down day and night by this golden monstrosity? It has given me this hunch. This is what comes of meddling with the gods. This is why we must destroy the colt.”
“Destroy?!” Pippa burst out.
Zeph pawed the earth, and Tazo snorted.
“Destroy?” Nikon also looked upset.
Leda softened her tone. “I meant, of course, take it to the temple. Poseidon’s temple in Iolkos. The priest there will know what to do with it.”
Leda didn’t have to say what she was thinking. There was only one thing priests did in their temples: make sacrifices to the gods and goddesses.
“You can’t!” cried Pippa.
“Hush,” said Nikon. “Leda is right. The priest will know what to do. It’s a winged horse. It belongs with the gods.”
“But . . . ,” stammered Pippa.
“If we don’t do something,” said Leda, “there is no doubt more ill fortune will rage across our lands. Poseidon’s anger knows no bounds. We have to take the colt to the temple—immediately!”
Right now? Pippa’s stomach tightened.
Nikon nodded. “It is the gods’ horse, not a mortal one, and Leda is right. If we don’t take it to the temple, who knows what further disasters might befall us.”
The villagers and farmers nodded and murmured their assent.
“Bas, make sure the colt is fed,” ordered Nikon. “Hippolyta, prepare Zephyr. You will be coming with us.”
“Can I . . . ,” started Astrea.
Helena tugged her hand. “No, we are going back to the oikos.”
“Yes,” said Nikon. “Back to my courtyard. There is much to arrange.”
“And breakfast to be eaten,” added Helena. “No point leaving with empty stomachs.”
“I’m so sorry, Pippa,” Bas babbled, as he and Pippa led the horses toward the main stables. “It’s not my fault. Leda woke us up. She forced me to tell.”
“It’s okay,” said Pippa. Though of course, it wasn’t. Not at all.
The crowd had already made its way across the field to the house, disappearing from sight into the courtyard. Only Astrea lingered, watching them from afar.
“You never know what the priestess might say,” Bas went on. “Perhaps we will be able to keep him.”
Pippa shook her head. “No, Bas. You know what will happen to him. I can’t do it. Zeph would never forgive me. I could never forgive myself. I have to . . .”
The plan formed as she whispered it, as they stepped inside the cool, dry stables. Her voice echoed. “I have to take Tazo to the gods myself. To the winged horse stables on Mount Olympus.”
Bas shuddered. Pippa knew that, unlike her, he had no good memories of the mountain. “But we were banished. You can’t go back. Who knows what Zeus will do to you! Or to Zeph!”
“I won’t take Zeph, I’ll go on foot.” Pippa took a deep breath. “I’ll explain to Zeus and Poseidon why Tazo was here. Then I’ll come home.”
“You’re going to talk to Zeus?” Bas shook his head in disbelief. “Pippa, you’re crazy!”
“I’m going to fix things, Bas. And I’m going to save Ta
zo too.”
The colt, as if he understood, nickered beside her.
Bas shook his head again. “You can’t do this, Pippa—”
“I have to!”
“—alone,” finished Bas.
Pippa’s eyes widened.
“I’ll come with you. We can take one of my father’s horses. It will be quicker.”
Pippa knew how hard it was for him to suggest this, and her heart warmed.
“It’s my fault everyone saw Tazo,” he continued. “I should have said no to Leda. I don’t know how, but I should have.”
“Oh, Bas.” Pippa took a deep breath. “You can’t come with me. Tazo is my responsibility. I promise, I won’t be gone long. Just . . . just delay your father from coming after me. And take care of Zeph. Please.”
“But . . .”
“Please.”
Slowly, Bas nodded. “For you, Pippa.”
While Bas found a sheepskin to hide Tazo’s wings, Pippa held Zeph’s nose in her hands and gave him a kiss. “I won’t be gone long. I promise. I’ll keep your feather close.”
Zeph flicked his ears, his dark eyes gazing deep into hers, full of understanding. Tazo gave a little snort.
She didn’t have time to collect more than a pocketful of figs and one other thing.
Her map. The map of Mount Olympus had been a gift from the Fates, woven of their magic threads. After the race, Pippa had tried to give it to Aphrodite to return for her, but the goddess insisted that Pippa might need it one day. Had Aphrodite known about this day?
Pippa took the map from its hiding space in Zeph’s stall and tucked it into her peplos.
There was no time to change into more suitable clothes. Besides, she couldn’t go into the house to get her chiton anyway, not without raising suspicion. So she ripped her peplos along the side. At least she could run now.
When she returned, she’d never rip her dresses. She’d do everything to become a proper young woman, just as she’d promised Helena.
That was another reason she wanted to go, a reason she hadn’t shared with Bas. This time on the mountain, she’d find out the facts about her parents. She’d learn exactly what happened. Then, maybe she’d finally be able to put her past to rest and focus on what she needed to learn to be a proper young woman.
“If, for some reason, the map doesn’t work and you get lost, remember, just look for the stars,” Bas said. “The Pleiades.”
“The Seven Sisters,” said Pippa; that was the constellation’s other name.
“Yes. The stars shine right above here, the Stables of the Seven Sisters, so you will always know how to find your way home.” Then Bas gave her his cloak, along with a hug. “You’d better come back,” he added. “My other sisters are great and all, but you’re my very favorite.”
Six
The stars still filled the sky from edge to edge, but Pippa did not pause to admire them. The grass along the road, soaked and salty, licked at her legs.
She wished she could ride Tazo, but he was still young, and she doubted he would let her. He was wild and untrained. So she ran, Tazo trotting beside her, the two of them connected only by the rope. Her heart pounded with fear.
Bas would find a way to delay his father and Leda and the rest of the villagers, but not for long. And she was certain they’d be riding when they set off after her.
“Zeus, protect us,” she whispered. “Keep us safe.”
She thought again of Leda’s story. It was true. Meddling with the gods and goddesses rarely did anyone any good. Instead, a mortal could end up turned into an echo, or a laurel tree, or perhaps a bear. She’d heard the stories. She’d lived them. She remembered the rider Theodoros, whom, it was rumored, Zeus had turned into a fish because he and his patron god, Poseidon, had cheated during training for the race.
But she also remembered how Zeus had winked at her. How they shared a deep love of winged horses. Even if Poseidon had caused the storm, it was Zeus she needed to talk to. Zeus was ruler of the gods, including his brother the god of the sea, and he loved horses. She was sure once she spoke with Zeus and explained everything, he would make things right.
As long as she made it to him.
As the sun slowly rose, hardly clearing the horizon, the full extent of the damage was laid bare. The storm had pounded the gardens and fields flat. Water had even flooded the houses’ open courtyards and crept into some of the low-lying outbuildings. But she didn’t stop to stare.
Good thing too. They had just passed the empty town when she heard the sound of distant hooves and shouting voices.
A search party was coming after her. She and Tazo would never escape now, not on foot!
Unless . . .
She gently tugged the sheepskin off Tazo’s back. If she rode him, maybe there was a chance. She was about to mount, but the bandage on his wing made her hesitate. No, she couldn’t do it. Not only had he never been ridden before, but he was still injured. What if she hurt him more?
She threw the sheepskin on the ground. There was no use for it now.
“Hurry!” Pippa urged, more to herself than the colt. She ran as fast as she could into the woods, Tazo beside her.
She led Tazo through the bushes, along an old windy path that no one followed anymore. It zigzagged this way and that, but Tazo didn’t seem to mind. It was a shortcut to the next town and to the mountain beyond.
The shouts grew louder. “That way! Through the bush!”
She glanced back and thought she saw Nikon through the green and brown branches.
The undergrowth ripped Pippa’s peplos and scratched at her legs. She hardly noticed.
They were going to be caught before they even had started out.
She looked for anything—a place to hide, a cave or bushes. But there was nothing. Her panic grew. Desperately she searched in her pocket for the map, not that it would be any help. It didn’t detail trails so low or far from the mountain. At least, it hadn’t. . . .
Her eyes went wide. There was a symbol of roses on the map that hadn’t been there before!
The map had expanded to include villages and forests far beyond the great mountain, including Thessaly! And now, near the very spot she was standing, was a symbol of roses! Yet there were no roses on the windy trails in these woods. At least, there hadn’t been.
But that, like the map, had changed. When she looked up, between two trees, she saw a gateway made of twisted roses.
Roses! They had marked a special trail that Aphrodite had made just for her and Bas, to lead them home from the mountain.
Was Aphrodite helping her? Or maybe the Fates? They had given her the map, after all. And it was made from their magic threads.
She didn’t really care, couldn’t really think, as she ducked through the roses, pulling Tazo after her . . . and emerged at the base of Mount Olympus—grand, glorious, and capped with clouds.
She turned around, fearing Nikon and the others would follow through, but the gateway . . . was gone. The shouts and sound of hooves were gone too.
There was only the sound of birds and wind, and . . . crying?
She froze and tried to keep Tazo still. But before she had a chance to hide, a face peered around the trunk of a tree at her. A boy!
He looked puffy and pale, and his eyes were red. His dark brown hair fell like a tangled mane. He didn’t look much older than her, but it was hard to tell, even when he came to stand in front of her, because he was wearing a huge cloak. It was a lion’s pelt, with the head still attached. But despite its size, it looked ragged, as though it was very, very old.
“Are you okay?” Pippa asked, standing up, forgetting for a moment that Tazo was uncovered.
But the boy didn’t seem to notice.
“Okay?” he said, rubbing his eyes. “Of course I’m okay. It’s you I was worried about. You must be lost. This is the way up the mountain. It’s only for us heroes to attempt.”
“Heroes?” Pippa raised her eyebrows.
“Yes, heroes,” sai
d the boy. “Don’t you know who I am?” He pulled himself up to his full height—which was not any taller than Pippa.
“No,” replied Pippa.
The boy huffed scornfully. “Typical. I shouldn’t be surprised. You are just a girl.”
“Just a girl? Don’t you know—” started Pippa, about to tell him who she was, that she had been one of the riders in the great Winged Horse Race. But then she remembered that proper girls weren’t supposed to climb mountains, especially not on their own, when the boy interrupted.
“For your information, my name is Hero.”
“Hero?”
Tazo snorted. Pippa glanced at the boy, thinking he would look at the horse and notice his wings, but he didn’t.
Even though Tazo was standing right next to him and, much to Pippa’s surprise, nosing his cloak. Tazo wasn’t even that friendly with Bas.
Still, Hero didn’t pay the horse any attention. “My name is Hero because that is exactly what I am: a hero. The great Oracle herself said so and for good reason. My ancestor was the legendary Hercules.”
Hercules! Pippa had heard of him, of course. Everyone had. Hercules was a great hero who had killed the dreaded nine-headed serpent, the Hydra. He had wrestled the fearsome Cretan bull and captured the golden-horned deer of Ceryneia. And, in what was once her favorite of his deeds, he had cleaned King Augeas’s stables—the largest, dirtiest stables in Greece—in a single day by redirecting a river through them. Mind you, now that Pippa had actually seen what such a flood could do, she wasn’t so sure this was the best method. It just meant more cleaning.
She must have been frowning at this thought, for Hero burst out, “Oh, so you don’t believe me?”
“No. I didn’t say that,” said Pippa taken aback.
“This proves that I am!” Hero tugged at his cloak. “This is the fur of the Nemean lion, the most fearsome lion ever known, slain by Hercules himself!” He slung the cloak back with a flourish, and it hit Tazo in the nose.
Tazo snorted again, and at last Hero noticed him. “Watch out, hors . . . ,” Hero began. Then he caught sight of Tazo’s wings and gulped. “A winged horse.”
“You must be used to seeing magical animals, being a hero. Right?” Pippa prodded.
The Colt of the Clouds Page 3