The Colt of the Clouds

by Kallie George

  Quiet.

  Pippa couldn’t hear the thud or roars of the monster outside. She couldn’t even see the outline of the door that they’d come through.

  They were safe.

  She took a deep breath and wiped the sweat from her brow. Slowly, her heartbeat returned to normal, and she looked around.

  She expected it to be some sort of cave. It certainly smelled like one: musty and damp. But she was surprised to discover that it was a house.

  Like most houses in Greece, all its rooms were centered around a main courtyard, except this courtyard wasn’t open to the sky above but instead had a roof of stone. Still, there were plants growing along the courtyard’s edge—mosses and ferns—and a small well at the back. In one corner was a stack of broken chairs, with a large, hastily made bench standing beside it. Oil lanterns set in alcoves along the wall gave out a warm, golden light. In the middle of the courtyard, there were three chairs set up, surrounding a table in the middle. On the table lay a spindle.

  Two women sat beside each other, each equally as old as the woman who had brought Pippa here. Their hair was white as bones, and their faces puckered with wrinkles. One had scissors in her gnarled hand, raised as though ready to snip the air. The other was tapping a measuring stick impatiently on the table.

  Pippa gasped. She knew these old ladies. She had met them before, last time on the mountain. They were Clotho, Lachesis, and Atropos, the three old women who spun, measured, and cut the threads of every mortal’s life. They were almost as powerful as Zeus and equally as feared—although Aphrodite had once said, “They are merely three old ladies, and even they can only see so much.”

  “The Fates,” Pippa whispered.

  “The Fates?” echoed Hero.

  This was confirmed a moment later when Atropos, brandishing her scissors, grumped, “Really, Clotho! The time you’ve wasted. The lives delayed. Did you have to go off like that?”

  Clotho hurriedly hobbled to her seat and began spinning as she replied, “You heard the whistle. You knew it was time.”

  “Time to meddle?” said Atropos. “If it was me, I wouldn’t have gone at all.”

  “But I brought them back, didn’t I?” said Clotho, the sweetest of the three, her spindle whirring now, as bright silvery thread was created.

  “And for what?” sniffed Atropos. “The last thing we need are more houseguests.”

  Pippa wasn’t sure what she meant.

  But Clotho only said, “It is a shame that we don’t have food to offer our guests. If only we had our garden.”

  Pippa remembered their garden. Zeph had liked the carrots there.

  “But we had to move. We couldn’t stay where we were. Not with all the disappearances,” clucked Lachesis, then paused to measure a new length of thread.

  “W-what disappearances?” stammered Pippa, unable to hold in her curiosity. “Why did you move here? And what about the horses? Where are they and why were the stables filled with water?”

  Atropos looked up with a glare. “Humph,” she said. “I knew it. Give them a moment and the questions come. Next will be ‘How will I save the day?’ and ‘Will my name go down in the ballads like my ancestors?’” Here she shot Hero a particularly sharp scowl. “That is what you’re thinking, is it not, Hero?”

  “You know my name?” said Hero, sounding pleasantly surprised. “Of course, you must also know that—”

  “Oh, yes, we know,” said Atropos. “We know everything.”

  Hero’s eyes went wide, and he closed his mouth.

  What did they know about Hero? wondered Pippa, but only for a moment. For now, there was only one thing on her mind. “I just want to know about the horses,” she said.

  “Sisters,” said Clotho gently, “we must tell them.”

  “Perhaps about the past, but not the future,” reminded Lachesis.

  “Of course,” said Clotho.

  Atropos grunted. “Not everything either. Just what he knows. That’s only fair.”

  Pippa wasn’t sure who “he” was, but she wanted to hear any part of the story, even if it wasn’t everything. “Please, tell us,” she said.

  “Yes,” said Clotho. “You’ll want to take a seat. This is a long tale.”

  Pippa did so, cross-legged on the stone floor. She let go of Tazo’s rope, and the colt wandered to the side of the courtyard and happily began to munch on the plants there. The Fates didn’t appear to mind. Hero sat close to Pippa. She could see he was still nervous, tugging at his cloak.

  As Clotho spoke, she spun her thread, thin as spider’s silk but bright as gold, while Lachesis measured and Atropos snipped.

  “It happened only days ago, though it seems like much longer now,” she began. “On the day Athena took Zeus’s throne, in reward for winning the Winged Horse Race.”

  “Shouldn’t she have received the award long ago?” interrupted Pippa. “The race was more than two years ago.”

  “Time passes differently here, child,” said Clotho. “The gods and goddesses live forever. Two years is nothing to them.”

  “Not like for you mortals,” added Lachesis.

  Clotho continued. “Athena, being the wise goddess she is, had nothing dramatic planned for her day as queen of the Gods. She simply wanted peace and to explore Zeus’s great library. But Poseidon had other plans.”

  So it had been Poseidon! Questions swirled in Pippa’s mind, but she waited for Clotho to go on.

  “He used Zeus’s absence to attack the gods’ palace, surrounding it with sea monsters. When Zeus realized what was going on, he rushed to his winged steed, Ajax, hoping to fly up through the roof and cast his lightning bolts down upon them. But in the stables, Ajax was gone. Meanwhile, Poseidon cursed salt water to stream from above.”

  “So that was the cause of the storm,” said Hero.

  I knew it. Tazo had nothing to do with it, thought Pippa. It really hadn’t been to punish mortals after all. Still, Pippa couldn’t celebrate this news. “But what about Khruse, or any of the other winged horses? Couldn’t Zeus have ridden one of them?” she asked.

  Clotho shook her head. “Not only was Ajax gone, all the winged horses were.”

  “All?!” burst Pippa.

  Atropos jumped. Snip!

  “Oops!” she said. She held up a thread—a very long one.

  “Wonderful,” she griped. “Double the lifetime.”

  “Sorry,” said Pippa, then turned back to Clotho. “Are you sure? All the horses are gone?”

  “Yes,” confirmed Clotho. “Including Helios’s steeds that pull the sun across the sky, and the immortal steeds of the dawn goddess, Eos. Even the Amenoi, the gods of the four winds, who can transform into horses, can’t be found. Only Poseidon’s hippocampi, half horse half fish, remain.”

  So those were the strange creatures in the winged horse stables, thought Pippa. Hippocampi! And Poseidon’s sea monsters too. . . .

  “But he’s Zeus!” said Hero. “Couldn’t he just transform himself into a winged horse?

  Clotho nodded. “Yes, but his winged horses and his lightning bolts give him extra power that the others do not have. In the stables, Zeus was attacked again. His lightning bolts were stolen from him. Not to mention his bluster . . .” She smiled wryly. “Without those things, he is no more or less formidable than any of the gods and goddesses.”

  Clotho went on. “No one knows where the other gods and goddesses are now. . . . But one thing is certain. The mountain is in chaos.”

  “But why?” asked Hero. “Why would Poseidon do this?”

  “He was banned from the last race. He forced his rider to cheat, and so Zeus disqualified him. He was furious,” said Pippa, remembering. But even as she said it, she knew it wasn’t enough. Not a reason to attack all your brothers and sisters.

  “Ah,” said Clotho. “Yes, he was mad. But it is more than that. Poseidon has always been jealous of Zeus. Zeus, Poseidon, and Hades are brothers, you know. In fact, Poseidon is older than Zeus. It was only chance that
Zeus was chosen as king.”

  “Chance? Pah! Chance?!” came a booming voice from a room to the left. “I was the one who saved all my brothers and sisters from my father’s vengeful stomach! When Cronus swallowed them, it was I who freed them. I deserve my place on the throne!”

  There was a whooshing sound.

  “Duck!” cried Hero, pushing down Pippa’s head.

  Just in time! A large stick, wavy like a lightning bolt, zipped through the air and crashed into the wall, snapping in two. Tazo froze.

  Atropos stood up, with a fierce snip of her shears. “What have I told you about throwing lightning bolts indoors, Zeus!”

  Zeus?!

  Ten

  Zeus, king of the Gods, god of the sky, stood in the doorway, his frizzy white beard so big it nearly touched either side. He had a large bandage wrapped around his left arm and was leaning on a crutch. His flowing robes were crinkled, but the pattern of clouds and lightning bolts still shone in the lamplight. A silvery winged horse feather peeked out from his pocket, just as Pippa remembered. The god looked indomitable, but also humbler than when she’d seen him last, after the race.

  Especially when he mumbled, “I’m sorry,” to Atropos, adding, “It’s not like it’s a real lightning bolt anyway. It’s just made of wood.”

  “Wood or not, there’s no throwing inside,” Atropos scolded.

  “If I had my real lightning bolts . . . ,” he huffed.

  He slumped down on the oversize bench. But when he spied Tazo by the opposite wall, he sprang up again. Tazo was still frozen, his ears pressed back and his nostrils flared.

  “A horse!” Zeus exclaimed. “A winged horse! Can it be true? Have the horses been found?”

  “No,” said Clotho. “Only this one. They brought it.” She gestured to Pippa and Hero.

  Hero did not bring Tazo, Pippa wanted to say, but she didn’t dare contradict a Fate, nor speak at all while face-to-face with the most powerful god on Mount Olympus.

  Zeus tugged his beard, staring intently at Pippa. “You. I know you. You were the child from the race. I exiled you back to the mortal realm with your horse.” He gave a half smile. “That horse was small, but what spirit.”

  Slowly, Pippa nodded, pleased that he had remembered Zeph, but she was still cautious. “Yes, I’m Hippolyta,” she said. Would he punish her for disobeying him?

  But Zeus didn’t seem to care. Instead, he pointed to Tazo. “This isn’t the horse I banished.”

  “No,” she said. “But it is his colt. I found him only a few days ago, in the wild. I didn’t know what to do with him, so I brought him here.”

  “We brought him,” inserted Hero.

  Pippa shot him a withering glance, and Hero quickly shut his mouth.

  “A colt,” said Zeus slowly, stepping toward Tazo, who did not move. “Yes, he is small. But there is something about him. He looks strong. How well does he fly?”

  “He doesn’t,” said Hero.

  “Doesn’t fly?” exclaimed Zeus.

  “Well, not yet,” hurried Hero. “Not that I’ve seen. I mean, he did sort of fly. When we were escaping the sea monster, but . . .”

  “Useless!” Zeus gave a great sigh and stepped back, slumping once more onto the bench. He tugged at his beard so hard Pippa thought he might rip it out.

  “How am I supposed to regain the throne? How will I defeat Poseidon without a horse and like this?” he roared, throwing his crutch to the ground with a deafening clatter.

  “But surely you and the other gods and goddesses can fight Poseidon?” said Hero. “They can help, right?”

  Zeus shook his head. “Help? That useless bunch. Pah! When I couldn’t find Ajax, I whistled for any horse, but none came. Instead, my whistles brought the other gods and goddesses, who also couldn’t find their horses, and arrived to pester me about it. Not the wisest plan. As soon as we were gathered, a darkness descended—unlike any even I’ve seen. When the light returned, none of us had our relics, and we were surrounded by sea monsters, and my brother . . .”

  “Sea monsters?” Hero winced.

  “Everyone was captured,” finished Zeus.

  “But what about you? How did you escape?” asked Pippa.

  Zeus puffed up. His beard puffed up too.

  “I’m Zeus, aren’t I? I fought my way out. But the others . . .” He shook his head. Zeus stood up and began to pace, limping, in a circle. “It doesn’t make sense. Poseidon has never been so powerful before. How could he have gotten all our relics? How did he cast such complete darkness? Why, usually he can barely transform a man into a fish! How is it possible for him to have done all this?” He tugged at his beard again. “Bah! What does it matter! All that matters now is defeating him and punishing him for what he’s done.” Zeus turned to the Fates. “You must tell me how I can do this. You must tell me the future.”

  Atropos clucked her tongue. “Not this again.”

  “Zeus, you know you are no different from anyone else,” said Lachesis. “We cannot tell you what might be.”

  “I don’t care what might be,” he bellowed. “I want to know what will be.”

  “Oh dear,” sighed Clotho.

  Zeus opened his mouth again, as though readying a new roar, but Pippa spoke first.

  “He will fly,” Pippa said. She glanced at Tazo. “He might not be flying yet. But he will fly. I know it.”

  “Yes,” said Hero. “And when he does, he will be able to carry you—”

  Pippa gave Hero a sharp jab with her elbow. She didn’t know that, and neither did he.

  “If he was trained,” hurried Hero. “But he isn’t. There isn’t anyone to train him.”

  “Except one,” said Clotho.

  “Shhh!” scolded Atropos.

  “No meddling, no meddling,” cried Lachesis, poking Clotho with her measuring stick.

  Too late. The words were out. Zeus’s eyes gleamed. “Yes, he can be trained. There is a groom. She was once a great trainer of winged horses, but I banished her”—Zeus looked reflective and tugged his beard once more—“perhaps unfairly. Her name is Melanippe. She is the centaur Chiron’s daughter—he is half horse, half human. Although she is not a centaur herself, no one knows horses better than she. She now runs the stables of the fire-breathing steeds, and other horses, deep underground.”

  Pippa had heard of Melanippe before—at least in relation to Hippolyta, her namesake. Hippolyta was a famous Amazonian warrior, and Melanippe was her sister. But she didn’t know Melanippe was also the centaur’s daughter.

  Zeus sighed.

  “But it doesn’t matter. I can’t take the colt to her. If Poseidon sees me, there will be war, for certain. It’s useless. If only . . .”

  Zeus touched the feather in his cloak. It looked like a shooting star, and Pippa knew it belonged to Pegasus. He loved Pegasus.

  Just like she loved Zeph.

  It wasn’t just about regaining his throne. Zeus loved the winged horses, just like her. Zeph was a winged horse too, at least he had been one. Was he in danger, even in the mortal realm?

  “I can go.” The words escaped Pippa’s mouth before she knew what she was saying.

  Hero looked at her, surprised. So did Zeus.

  Pippa nodded. “Yes, I can go.”

  It would be risky, but if there was any chance to help Tazo and the other winged horses, she had to. Who knew how long it would take Zeus to find a way to defeat Poseidon? Months? Years? She remembered what Clotho had said. A few years wasn’t anything to the gods. But it would be to Bas and his family and all the others down the mountain. If the gods and goddesses were locked away, who would take care of the crops? Who would ensure the hearths stayed warm?

  But above all, the winged horses were missing, and Pippa had to help find them.

  Zeus’s eyes lit up. “Yes. You can go. Both of you.” He gazed at the broken wooden lightning bolt on the floor. “Meanwhile, I will find a way to get more lightning bolts. Hephaestus usually makes them for me, but that is impossi
ble now that he has disappeared. Perhaps if I find the Cyclopes who help forge them . . .”

  “Excuse me, Zeus, but I actually didn’t bring the colt here, and really I should be going home,” faltered Hero.

  “Yes,” said Pippa. “I can go by myself.” The last thing she needed was Hero with her.

  “Pah!” said Zeus. “You came together, did you not? You will need all the help you can to protect that colt—and this.” He threw his cloak over Tazo’s back, hiding the wings from sight.

  “We don’t even know where that groom lives,” Hero added.

  “You have our map, don’t you?” said Atropos, glancing at Pippa.

  Pippa gulped. She was supposed to have given it back to the Fates. Would they be mad?

  “Yes, I do, thank you. It’s already helped me so much with the roses and . . .”

  “It’s just a map,” sniffed Atropos. “But it will show you the way. Look for the fire stables.”

  Clotho raised her eyebrows at her sister.

  “Even I wouldn’t mind going back to our regular home,” the oldest-looking Fate said. “And getting rid of certain houseguests.”

  “Oh, Atropos, really, you must learn some manners,” said Clotho. “Take care, little threads. The journey is long, but together you will . . . ow!”

  This time Atropos had poked Clotho with her shears.

  “But you just . . . ,” started Clotho.

  “Tut, tut, tut!” was all Atropos said.

  “Well,” said Clotho, as the stone door swung open all by itself, “I can’t tell you the future, but I can certainly tell you the present, and presently there is no sea monster outside the house. Or any other kind of monsters. In case you were worrying.” She looked particularly at Hero.

  “I wasn’t worrying,” he said stoutly.

  “But thank you,” Pippa added.

  And with that, Pippa, Hero, and Tazo stepped outside. The stone door swung closed behind them, then disappeared completely into the mountainside.

  Eleven

  Pippa opened the map and consulted it. “This way,” she said.

  Surprisingly, Hero followed quietly, without question.