The Colt of the Clouds

by Kallie George

  “Pecklion is trickier to ride than a winged steed,” commented Euippe. “His feathered body is slippery. And, like most hippalektryons, he refuses to be ridden with a saddlecloth. You will have to hang on to his reins very tightly.”

  She drew a large set of reins from her bag and handed them to Pippa, along with a handful of seeds. “This will help you put on the bridle. I will watch with Tazo and explain to him what’s happening.”

  “You can talk to the horses!” Pippa exclaimed.

  “Of course,” Euippe huffed, but did not say more.

  Pippa glanced at Sophia for help, but Sophia was still writing, clearly intent on capturing every detail.

  So Pippa stepped closer to the half horse half rooster. Instead of a mane, he had a large red comb like a rooster, which stood up straight along his neck. Although his nose was a little narrower than most horses, his eyes were large and warm and reminded her of Zeph’s.

  He snorted and sniffed.

  “Here, Pecklion, here you go.” She held out her handful of seeds.

  Pecklion’s wet muzzle found them, and within seconds, he had munched them all up. When he was done, Pippa slipped on the bridle.

  Now, for mounting. Holding the reins in one hand, she moved down to where his feathers began. Pecklion, to her relief, didn’t move. Pippa tried to hoist herself onto his back, but she slipped. Blushing, she looked over at Euippe. But Euippe’s face was expressionless.

  Pippa tried again. This time, she made it and settled down into Pecklion’s feathers. They were very soft, and she had difficulty getting a good grip with her legs. It felt like she was squeezing a pillow rather than a horse’s sides.

  “Up,” she said. “Up.” Pecklion didn’t move. Then Pippa remembered Euippe’s commands. “Petesthe.”

  With a few running steps, Pecklion flapped his wings and took off into the air. They rose up, up, up, in a jolting, unsteady manner. It was far from graceful, but still Pippa’s heart lifted in joy. She was flying!

  She leaned over and stroked the hippalektryon’s neck. “Good job. Good, Pecklion.”

  Pecklion let out a squawk, and Pippa laughed. He soared higher. It had been far too long since Pippa had done this. This was riding. Even if it was a bit tricky to keep her balance on the slippery feathers.

  She glanced down to check that Tazo was watching. He was only a speck below, as were Euippe and Sophia.

  Then Pippa saw something alarming.

  Euippe was waving furiously at her. “Stop!” the groom shouted.

  Pippa glanced up and suddenly realized where Pecklion was heading. Toward the ceiling and the tunnel to the surface!

  But the tunnel was so narrow. He’d never make it.

  “No!” Pippa said sternly. She tugged at the reins. Pecklion wouldn’t turn around. Pippa pressed her legs into his sides, but it only made him jolt forward faster and angle his body until it was almost vertical.

  Pippa couldn’t help it. She slipped and dangled in the air. Only the reins kept her attached to Pecklion. They were stretched perfectly tight. Pippa clutched them with all her might, scrambling to find purchase on his back.

  Pecklion couldn’t ignore the strain. He somersaulted in the air, Pippa with him. She was sure she was going to fall. . . .

  Instead, she landed on his back and desperately tried to clutch hold. The blood rushed from her head. She could hear shouts from below, and, all at once, THUMP . . .

  Pecklion landed back on the ground, and Pippa slid, exhausted, onto the ground as well.

  “Pippa!” cried Sophia, running over. “Are you okay?”

  “Yes,” she gasped, trying to catch her breath.

  Euippe huffed but didn’t say anything.

  Someone else did, though. Hero had finally arrived. “I thought you knew how to ride,” he said. “I have a very good sense of balance, just like Hercules.”

  Pippa scowled.

  But Euippe nodded.

  Pippa might not be good at cooking or weaving, but she was great at riding. Did Euippe really think that Hero was better than she was? Pecklion certainly seemed to think so. He had made his way to Hero and was gently nosing his cloak as if they were old friends.

  “And see,” said Hero. “Hercules had a way with magical animals, and I do too.”

  Pippa seriously doubted this. The only thing Hercules did with magical creatures was slay them! She glanced over and thought she saw Euippe frown too—but maybe not, because then Euippe nodded again and said, “Hero, you will mount Tazo.”

  “Tazo? Is he really ready?” asked Pippa.

  Euippe’s nostrils flared. “The gentling didn’t help. We might as well move on to the next step.”

  “B-but . . . ,” Pippa stammered. She was the one who should ride Tazo. He was her colt!

  Hero adjusted his cloak. “Hercules was very skilled with horses. He even captured the man-eating mares of Diomedes.”

  “Which didn’t end well for the mares,” noted Sophia.

  Pippa watched with crossed arms as Euippe placed a saddlecloth on Tazo’s back—which he was used to for hiding his wings. This time however, it didn’t cover them. It was a special winged horse cloth that allowed for the wings to jut out freely.

  To Pippa’s surprise, Tazo didn’t run away when Hero lifted himself (very ungracefully) onto his back. Although the colt snorted and shook his head, he stayed still! Hero’s eyes widened. He too looked a little surprised. Then he puffed up.

  “Well done,” said Euippe.

  Pippa couldn’t believe it—Hero was even able to get the colt to trot around the cave.

  Still, Tazo didn’t fly.

  Euippe seemed frustrated. “I didn’t think that the gentling frightened him, but perhaps it did,” she said. She glanced at Hero. Although she didn’t say it aloud, Pippa could tell she was thinking that maybe Hero should have flown on Pecklion, since the animal seemed to like him so much.

  “Can’t you ask the horse?” questioned Hero.

  “You do not ask horses. You listen,” said Euippe.

  Pippa couldn’t listen to Tazo the way Euippe could. She could watch though. She gazed at Tazo, trotting around the cave beside Pecklion. The stones and rubble didn’t seem to bother him. He seemed to have gotten over his fear from the temple. Remembering the temple gave Pippa an idea.

  “Perhaps he won’t fly because of his hurt wing,” said Pippa.

  “He doesn’t have a hurt wing,” said Euippe. “I examined him closely.”

  “But he did,” said Pippa. “He was trapped in a stone temple when I found him. His wing had a bad cut on it, and I think it might have been bruised too. I bandaged it. Maybe I didn’t do a good job. I didn’t leave the bandage on for long.”

  “No,” said Euippe slowly. “You did an excellent job. I examined his wings and they are very strong, stronger than any I have seen. In fact, I am surprised to learn one of them was hurt.”

  She held Pippa’s gaze for a long moment. “You healed this winged horse.” Her eyes seemed to soften. “You really do remind me of someone. I wonder . . .” She let out a long breath. There was a moment of silence. Then at last she said, “Come, let’s put Tazo and Pecklion in their stalls to rest. It is time for a story.”

  Sophia raised her eyebrows. “But, Euippe, you never tell stories.”

  Sixteen

  Back at the table, surrounded by buckets and tack, Euippe scooped barley into bowls again for Pippa, Hero, and now Sophia. Pippa was too curious to eat. Euippe sat down, fiddling with her long hair. She didn’t eat either.

  “I haven’t always been groom of these stables,” she began.

  Sophia pulled out her parchment and began to scribble furiously. Euippe scowled. Sophia quickly set down her stylus.

  Euippe continued. “Once, I was groom of the winged horse stables, alongside Bellerophon. I have always been good with horses. It comes of having a centaur for a father. My greatest pleasure was to train the winged horses for the race. But that wasn’t all I did. The gods and goddesses
do not treat injured horses kindly. If a horse has an illness or hurts a wing, even just a sprain . . .”

  “The Graveyard of Wings,” Pippa said in a hush. Ares had told her about it. He had threatened to send Zeph there, certain the little horse would never win the race. Pippa understood why you might kill a horse to put it out of pain. She had seen this done back in Athens. But if a horse could be healed . . .

  Euippe nodded. “That’s why I had another job. Under the cloak of night, I ferried hurt horses off the mountain to be cared for in secret by two mortals who owned a stable. I would leave a special token to let them know a winged horse was coming. When the horse was better, they would leave me one to bring the healed horse back.”

  “So there were winged horses below the mountains!” gasped Pippa.

  Euippe nodded. “No one was the wiser. I wore a disguise. I was very careful to bring the horses down before any other gods and goddesses found out about their injuries, and when I brought the horses back up, the gods and goddesses merely thought I was returning horses that had wandered off. The arrangement worked for years, until . . .”

  She paused, and all three children leaned forward in anticipation.

  “Until one night—a dark, dark night—when the mortals went missing. No one picked up the injured winged horse from where I had left him. All was revealed, and I was punished by Zeus. He turned me into a horse myself.”

  She snorted softly and leaned away from the table.

  “Oh,” breathed Pippa. “But . . . but I thought Zeus loved horses. He loves Pegasus. Surely he’d want to help any that were injured?”

  “Ha!” exclaimed Euippe. “Zeus does love horses. He was the one who made all the arrangements for them in the first place! In fact, the tokens were his too, charmed to protect the mortals. Yet the token didn’t protect them. I never saw it or them again.”

  Now Pippa was truly confused.

  So, it seemed, were Sophia and Hero.

  “Then why did Zeus need to hide them? Why did he punish you?” stammered Hero.

  “The gods and goddesses, especially Zeus, must always put on a show,” said Euippe. “They cannot bear to look weak.”

  “That’s why they never refuse a bet either,” said Sophia.

  Euippe nodded. “Zeus wanted his tender heart to be kept secret, and when his arrangements were discovered, he denied all knowledge of them. That’s why he was quick to punish me. Eventually, he turned me back to myself and sent me here, to look after the horses underground. Sometimes I wish I had remained a horse. Life was simpler. Don’t get me wrong. These horses mean so much to me, even the poor hippalektryon. But, like Pecklion, I miss the sun. I miss the stars. I have never even had the pleasure of watching the Winged Horse Race.” She sighed.

  Pippa’s brow furrowed. If Euippe hadn’t watched the last race, then why did she recognize Pippa? Where else could the groom have seen her? Did it have something to do with her parents? Before she could think more on this, a voice thick as syrup echoed through the cavern.

  “Ah, there you are!” Everyone froze as a figure strode through the shadowy tunnel toward them.

  Dressed in black robes, with two spiky wings protruding from his back, he looked like a giant bat. A bag was slung over his shoulder. For a moment, Pippa thought she saw it move. It’s just a trick of the light, she thought. Still, she shivered.

  Dark shadows circled his eyes, as if he hadn’t slept in days—maybe months. Pippa wasn’t surprised when he gave a great yawn. The whole room seemed to shudder from its force. Then he said, “I am Morpheus, god of dreams. I am looking for Melanippe.”

  Euippe stood up. “Morpheus, to what do I owe this visit?”

  “Not pleasure, that’s for certain,” the god said. He glared at Pippa and Hero. “The stench of mortals drew me to this cave. What are they doing here?” He puzzled over Pippa’s face. She hoped he hadn’t been at the race either and didn’t recognize her.

  “I’m not an ordinary mortal. I’m descended from Hercules,” started Hero. “I have completed great feats already, on this quest alone.”

  “Yes, the boy is a relative of Hercules,” hurried Euippe. “And the girl is with him. They have their reasons for being here, as you must have yours. Tell me.”

  “If you must know,” said Morpheus, yawning again, “I need a horse. Can you believe that lately I’ve had to fly with my own wings to deliver my dreams and nightmares? Do you know how tiring it is? Do you know how big the mortal realm is? You’d think she would have spared me one winged horse.”

  She? wondered Pippa. Did he mean the goddess of misery? The Cyclopes had said she was working with Poseidon.

  Morpheus went on. “Just one. I asked right away, when Poseidon was in the Underworld. But no, they didn’t listen. Last night I was too tired to make my deliveries. The mortals are fearful about everything right now—their crops, the gods, their future. Do you have any idea how many opportunities I’m missing?” He patted the bag that was slung over his shoulder, and this time it definitely moved! There was something—maybe many things—alive in it! Another shiver ran down Pippa’s spine.

  “There are rumors of a winged horse. The water monsters spotted one. You don’t have it here, do you?” said the god.

  Pippa and Hero exchanged a worried glance.

  “No,” said Euippe matter-of-factly.

  “There is a big reward for it if it is found,” said Morpheus. “And if it is discovered to be hidden—well, you can imagine . . .”

  “We have only the fire breathers and the automatons,” continued Euippe, “and a hippalektryon. I could show you them.”

  “Very—ahhhh—well,” said the god, with another yawn.

  Euippe nodded and waved to Pippa. “Go, prepare them for viewing.”

  “Prepare?” said Pippa, puzzled.

  Euippe glared at her.

  Of course! Tazo was in the cavern. If Morpheus saw Tazo he would know the winged horse was there!

  “Yes, Euippe,” said Pippa, leaving the room with Hero and Sophia close behind.

  “So Poseidon visited the Underworld,” whispered Pippa, as they rushed down the tunnel. “Maybe he was visiting someone there. Maybe . . . maybe that’s where the winged horses are.”

  “No, because why would Morpheus be here, then?” said Sophia.

  “Right . . . ,” replied Pippa. Still, now Pippa knew that Poseidon had been in the Underworld. That was something. Something she could tell Zeus. Maybe even something that put her one step closer to finding the horses.

  When they reached the cavern, Pippa’s thoughts changed to focus on only one horse. Tazo. He was happily resting. Pecklion, in the stall beside his, seemed to be napping. All the stalls in this row had no gates, only simple ropes. Another row off to the side had metal chains for the fire horses.

  There was nothing to hide a horse. Zeus’s cloak, which had hidden Tazo’s wings on their way to the stables, had long been lost to the fire river.

  Pippa could hear voices coming down the tunnel. Euippe and Morpheus were on their way already. “I don’t want to see the fire horses if they cannot fly,” came Morpheus’s voice. “Take me to this rooster beast.”

  “Think!” cried Pippa.

  “There’s nothing,” exclaimed Sophia.

  “Nothing,” repeated Hero. He shook his head, and his lion-headed cloak shook along with him.

  “That’s it!” said Pippa. She grabbed Hero’s cloak.

  “Hey!” he protested.

  But Pippa tugged it away from him. Unfastening the rope across the stall, she threw the cloak over Tazo’s back. The lion skin covered his wings perfectly. As Pippa adjusted the lion head over Tazo’s, she was worried he might be scared, but again he seemed to understand the urgency of the situation. The lion head rested over his ears; the disguise was complete.

  Just in time.

  Euippe and Morpheus strode up to the stalls. If Euippe paused for even a blink of an eye at the strange sight of Tazo, it was unnoticeable.

  He
ro’s face was red. But neither goddess nor god seemed to notice that either.

  “That doesn’t look like a rooster,” said Morpheus, his eyes narrowing at Tazo. Pippa’s heart pounded so hard, she feared Morpheus would hear it.

  “Because it’s not,” said Euippe coolly.

  “What is it?”

  “An unfortunate creature,” said Euippe. “Burned by lava and forced to take the skin of another.”

  Morpheus frowned and Pippa held her breath. But Euippe continued, “Come, let me show you Pecklion.”

  The hippalektryon had woken, and his eyes were fixed on Morpheus. His rooster’s comb stood straight up on his head.

  “This is the creature?” Morpheus curled his lip in disgust. “Are you sure he can fly?”

  “He can fly,” burst Pippa, though she regretted it at once. As much as Pecklion might want to return to the surface, he surely didn’t want to go as Morpheus’s mount.

  “I have met rabbits far more frightful. But since there is no other choice, I will try him.”

  “He prefers not to wear a saddlecloth,” started Euippe.

  Morpheus scowled viciously—or at least tried to, before his expression turned into yet another yawn. “Very well. Ready him for me.”

  Euippe gestured to Hero, who looked surprised for a moment, then hurried into Pecklion’s stall. He slipped on the hippalektryon’s bridle and led him out. Pecklion did not want to come any closer to the god of dreams and nightmares. Hero tugged, but the creature stepped back.

  “Bring him to me!” ordered Morpheus.

  It wasn’t just Morpheus who was impatient. The bag at his side jostled and jerked as if whatever was within wanted to get out. Morpheus pushed the bag aside, and as the bag shifted, something escaped from it.

  A blur, like a black, shimmering butterfly.

  It all happened so fast, Pippa didn’t have a chance to stop him. Whoosh! Tazo tore out of his stall. Off flew Hero’s cloak, crumpling to the floor. The colt’s wings—golden, glorious—spread open and up, up, up he soared after the creature.

  He could fly! He was flying! He was fast and strong and beautiful and everything she imagined. But Pippa couldn’t celebrate.