“A winged horse!” exclaimed Morpheus. “You do have one here! You lied, Euippe.”
Morpheus opened his sack, wide enough for a host of horselike creatures to burst out, tiny and terrifying. Their manes and tails wafted like moonlit smoke, and their bodies seemed knit from shadows.
“Nightmares!” cried Sophia. “I’ve only read about them.”
They swarmed up to Tazo, who looked dismayed that he’d ever chased one to begin with.
“Stop!” cried Pippa.
Tazo surged forward, swerving to avoid the little beasts, heading up, up, up to the light, to the tunnel that led to the surface.
“Tazo!” yelled Pippa.
“Go!” cried Euippe. She pushed Pippa toward Pecklion. As she did, her necklace swung out, the coin turning to reveal the imprint of a winged horse—exactly like Pippa’s. Euippe’s eyes bore into hers.
“There is something else I wanted to tell you,” she rushed, her eyes glinting. “I think that you are . . . AIE!”
A nightmare grabbed at Euippe’s long hair. She struggled to knock it away. “Go!” she cried, sounding desperate now.
Pippa leaped on Pecklion’s back.
“B-but . . . ,” stammered Hero, reaching back toward his cloak, which lay in a heap on the ground.
Before he had a chance to seize it, Euippe snatched him up and lifted him onto the hippalektryon’s back, behind Pippa. Then she gave Pecklion a firm shove with her palm, which sent him running, jumping up . . . flying!
Pippa glanced down and saw Morpheus reach into his sack—not to release another nightmare but to pull out a twisted horn. He shook the horn in the air, and a spray of silvery dust spilled out, fluttering down on Euippe and Sophia, who instantly collapsed to the ground, asleep.
Morpheus blew into the horn this time, and a bigger burst erupted up into the air. But Pecklion beat his wings at exactly the same time, and to Morpheus’s surprise, the dust rained back down.
Right onto him!
He groaned and rolled his eyes. “Of all the fates!” he spat, but even he couldn’t resist his own magic. He gave a yawn that rumbled the rocks and cried, “Just you wait! This isn’t overrrr . . . ,” before falling down with a thud, sound asleep.
“Thank Zeus!” cried Hero. “He can’t follow us now.”
Pippa wasn’t so thankful.
“Hold on!” she cried, gathering the dangling reins. Hero gripped her neck.
Pecklion’s feathers were as slippery as before, but this time Pippa was focused. She had to be. Morpheus might be sleeping, but his nightmares weren’t.
The nightmares swarmed them, biting at their clothes and nipping at their skin.
“Ow! Ah!” cried Hero, clutching Pippa’s neck so tightly she found it difficult to breathe.
Then, the nightmares began to shift. The one beside her changed shape from a tiny horse to—Zeph! A little Zeph with an arrow through his chest and blood pouring out.
“No!” cried Pippa. Then the nightmare shifted again, this time to a bassinet with a crying baby inside. Was it her, abandoned in the darkness?
“Help!” cried Pippa.
She closed her eyes, and when she opened them, she didn’t see any nightmares. They had turned back. But up ahead was something worse.
Tazo was disappearing through the tunnel of light, and Pecklion was headed there too!
But Pecklion, large and ungainly, would never make it.
Still, he angled his body, and Pippa felt herself slipping, pulled back by the weight of Hero. She closed her eyes again, heard the crack and crumble of stones falling. What was happening? She wasn’t sure. She couldn’t tell, couldn’t breathe, even her heart seemed to have stopped. Were they flying? Or about to fall . . . ?
Seventeen
Kikirikiki!
A crow filled the air. Surprised by the sound, Pippa opened her eyes just as they landed with a lurch.
They had made it!
Pecklion was standing on the mountainside. A grassy meadow stretched out around them. The sun was low on the horizon, but even so, everything was far brighter than it had been in the caves, and Pippa blinked several times as her eyes adjusted.
To her relief, Tazo was nearby, grazing. Hero tumbled off Pecklion’s back, and Pippa followed, happy to feel solid ground under her sandals.
“You did it, Pecklion!” she said to the great beast.
Pecklion crowed for a second time—proudly, joyfully—and lifted his head toward the dusky sky, as though he couldn’t believe he was free of the caves at last.
But Hero looked far from joyful. His mouth was twisted, and he clutched himself tightly.
“Are you hurt?” exclaimed Pippa.
Hero gulped. “My cloak! My cloak is down there! I need my cloak!”
“Oh,” replied Pippa, with a sigh of relief. “That’s all.”
“All?!” burst the boy. “It belonged to Hercules! It’s the Nemean cloak! I can’t lose it! My father will be furious!”
“But he gave it to you, didn’t he?” said Pippa.
Hero pointed at Pippa. His finger trembled. “This is all your fault. You took it from me. I said no, but you didn’t listen.” He jabbed at her chest with his finger.
“Hey!” said Pippa. “You know there was no other choice. We had to hide Tazo.”
“It didn’t hide him, though, did it? And now it’s gone!” He slumped down beside the tunnel.
“I’m sorry,” said Pippa, thinking of how it might feel to lose her coin. “I really am. But there’s nothing we can do about it. Come on, Hero.” She tried to tug him up, but he shrugged her away.
She tried another tactic. “Since we don’t have anything to hide Tazo with, we better start moving. Who knows if Morpheus will sleep for long.” She paused, thinking of Euippe and Sophia and hoping no harm had come to them. They were demigoddesses, so surely they could take care of themselves. She continued, “And who knows who else might come after us. You heard him. Everyone is looking for Tazo. We have to get back to the Fates’ house. There’s lots to tell Zeus. Tazo can fly, after all.” She glanced at the colt proudly and pulled out her map.
Hero didn’t budge.
“Come on,” said Pippa again. “Try to forget about the cape. You were relying on it too much anyway.”
“Relying on it?!” Hero jumped up. “Like you rely on that map? You never let me look at it. Zeus put me in charge of this adventure too.”
He grabbed a corner of the map. The map wasn’t made of parchment. It had been woven from the Fates’ magic threads.
“Hey!” cried Pippa.
Hero ignored her and tugged. One hard tug. But instead of tugging it out of her hands . . .
Whish!
All at once, in the blink of an eye, the map unraveled and fell to the ground in a heap of golden, shimmering threads. Pippa’s eyes grew wide in horror.
“What have you done?!” she cried. “That was a gift!”
Hero also looked horrified. But only for a moment. “My cloak was a present,” he humphed. “You didn’t seem to care about that.”
“It was just a cloak! This map was important!” stormed Pippa. “It was from the Fates!”
“I-I . . . ,” stammered Hero.
Pippa couldn’t stop herself. “You! That’s all you think about. That cloak wasn’t helping you. You aren’t anything like Hercules. The only part of you that’s a hero is your name!”
Hero went pale. “At least I try to act like a hero. I don’t whisper about people behind their backs. I’m much smarter than a squid,” he grunted. “I know you don’t want me with you. I don’t care. I’m used to it. I’m better alone anyway. I’ll find my way to the Fates’ house without a stupid map.”
“Like you found your way to the cavern?” huffed Pippa.
“I did find my way to the cavern,” said Hero.
“Eventually,” said Pippa.
“Well that’s good enough, isn’t it?” said Hero. “I’m done talking.”
“Really? You?”
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Hero clenched his fists. But he didn’t reply. Instead, he spun around and took a few steps away from her.
“Good! Leave!” cried Pippa.
Hero still didn’t say anything. His steps grew more purposeful, faster.
“That’s fine by me!” said Pippa.
She watched as he headed down the mountain. He looked very small and very thin without his thick cloak. She didn’t care. She turned away from him, to face Pecklion and Tazo.
Their ears were pricked and eyes wide, as though they had understood everything. Without warning, Pecklion began to trot, passing Pippa, and running down the mountain, obediently following Hero. Tazo took a few hesitant steps as well.
“Not you too, Tazo?” Pippa whispered.
Clip-clop, clip-clop. The horse continued.
“Tazo!” she tried, louder.
She reached out to grab his mane, but his trot quickened, and she missed, stumbling on some loose stones.
She righted herself and grabbed the whistle around her neck, Bellerophon’s whistle. She blew it, and the sharp sound rang through the air. But Tazo didn’t turn. He hadn’t been trained, like the other winged horses—like Zeph—to come at its call.
Zeph wouldn’t leave her. He’d never leave her. But this wasn’t Zeph. This was Tazo.
All she could do was watch as the colt joined Pecklion and Hero. The three of them disappeared down the mountain, leaving her alone with the shimmering remains of the map at her feet.
How could Hero?
She felt heat build in her stomach as if, like the fire horses, she had drunk from the pool of lava. She’d show him. She’d get to the Fates’ house first, even without a map, and tell Zeus everything.
She scooped up the threads and put them in her pocket. Then she too started down the mountain, in the opposite direction.
As the sun, barely above the horizon to begin with, slipped away, Pippa thought of Euippe and Sophia.
I wish Sophia were here, thought Pippa. Sophia was a much better friend than Hero. Was Hero even a friend? Her stomach twisted. He was right about one thing; she hadn’t treated him like one.
A shadow flickered by, and she jumped.
But it was just a leaf. Still, she shuddered, remembering the nightmares, and something else that haunted the mountain. The taraxippoi, the ghost children. She and Zeph had almost been captured by them while training for the race. Would the taraxippoi find her first or would Morpheus? Either way, she was lost.
She probably wouldn’t make it off this mountain. She’d never see Zeph, her Zeph, again. Or any horse . . .
But just as she thought this, she saw one, shimmering under the stars, standing very, very still.
Still as stone.
That’s because it was stone. It was a statue, atop a mound of earth. Its wings were stretched to the sky, its head poised toward the moon. It looked startlingly familiar. Where had she seen a horse like this before?
Her coin! It was exactly the same as the horse imprinted on her coin. Not just her coin, Euippe’s too. But why was the statue here? What was it marking?
Pippa stepped closer and peered beyond it. Plots of earth, some covered in long grass, others sunken with age, stretched out into the distance.
Pippa began to tremble. Could this be? The Graveyard of Wings. The place where winged horses—those that were not immortal—were laid to rest. This was where Euippe was trying to keep horses from ending up before their time. Was that why the groom’s coin looked so much like the statue? But why was Pippa’s coin the same? She didn’t know. And what was it that Euippe had been trying to tell her?
One thing she did know, however: she couldn’t see any fresh graves. Only the grass and a few trees, hung with shadows. The winged horses she was searching for weren’t trapped here, and that gave her some relief.
But it was fleeting. She shivered. She felt cold and alone . . . and mortal.
When she had been part of the race, she had never cared about the prize to become a demigoddess. All she’d wanted was to keep Zeph. (Zeph . . . how she missed him!) But now she wished she had cared more about it. Sophia and Euippe didn’t have to worry about weaving or cooking or cleaning. Sophia could work on her scroll, and Euippe cared for horses. But . . . once this was all over, Pippa would return to Bas’s farm and her lessons with Helena. She would never see the winged horses again. Not that she’d ever see them anyway. They were captured . . . Tazo was gone. She felt limp like the threads in her pocket. She slumped to the ground.
And sprang up again when she heard the crunching of rocks and grass.
She inhaled sharply. Who—or what—was there?
The starlight seemed almost brighter than the sun, yet there was no warmth in it. The rocks and grasses shone silver and cold. Pippa glanced around, frightened. The noise grew louder. There was the shape of a horse, but this one was not a statue. This one was moving, shimmering in the light. Its wings were slightly lifted, and it seemed like its hooves were lifting from the ground too. A ghost!
Pippa stumbled back, away from the statue, away from the Graveyard of Wings, into the meadows. The horse followed, closer, closer . . . and let out a snorting whinny.
A whinny that sounded familiar.
It wasn’t a ghost horse at all. It was . . . “Tazo!”
Pippa stopped. “Tazo!” she exclaimed again and ran to him. She threw her arms around his neck and breathed in his warm horsey smell. When she’d had her fill, she checked to see if Hero or Pecklion was with him, but they weren’t. Still, he was there. She gave him another hug, and he replied with a purring snort. What was it that Hero had said? That was Tazo’s happy noise. She smiled.
But how had Tazo found her? As though he could read her mind, he sniffed, his nostrils widening.
“It’s lucky you can find your way by smell. If only I could navigate so easily. Without a map it’s useless.”
Tazo nuzzled her shoulder, and she rubbed his neck. “I’m glad you’re back. It’s all Hero’s fault,” she continued. This time, however, Tazo pulled away and snorted.
“I mean, really, Tazo, you can’t honestly think he . . .” She bit her tongue. Tazo clearly liked Hero, and besides, what was the point of blaming Hero anymore? He hadn’t meant to ruin it.
Truthfully, a bit of her missed him. At least they could have been lost together. But Tazo was with her now.
And it wasn’t pitch-black. That was something.
Pippa gazed up at the stars. They filled the sky, edge to edge.
She had spent many a night when she was young staring up at the stars, at the constellation of Pegasus, wishing she could be with the winged horses. As much as she gazed at Pegasus, however, he had never led her to them. But maybe the stars could lead her down the mountain!
She remembered what Bas had said: the stars in the Pleiades constellation shone right above the Stables of the Seven Sisters. If she could make her way to the stables, she might not find the home of the Fates, but at least she wouldn’t be lost.
She searched the sky for the cluster of seven tiny stars.
Look as she may though, she couldn’t find them.
That’s strange, she thought.
She tried to find Pegasus instead. Even the winged horse was impossible to spot. There were just too many stars, crowded together. Except she thought she could see a horse, now that she looked again. It wasn’t Pegasus, but it was definitely a horse.
“Maybe Nikomedes,” she reasoned. He had been Zeus’s last winged steed before Ajax, and, like Pegasus, was now a constellation. But, there was another horse shape . . . and another . . .
The sky was filled with horses. One winged horse flew beside the Little Bear constellation, and another beside the Big Bear. There was a horse near Orion’s belt, his nose reaching up as if to give it a nibble. So many horses, Pippa could hardly believe it.
“The winged horses!” she gasped. “Tazo, we’ve found them!”
Eighteen
The little horse perked his ears and looked
up too.
Pippa’s mind spun. Honoring Zeus’s steeds by turning them into constellations was one thing. Each of those horses had worked for the great god for a hundred years, carrying his lightning bolts and flying him through storms. They were ready for rest. But it was quite another to trap a horse in the sky against its will. She remembered the harnesses the Cyclopes were constructing. Maybe they were to hold the horses in the sky?
Pippa couldn’t help herself. The blood pounded in her head. “Let’s fly! Let’s fly to them, Tazo!” she cried.
Although she’d never ridden him before—only Hero had—she mounted easily, maybe because she didn’t hesitate. His back was smooth and his mane coarse in her grasp. She held her legs by his sides, to allow room for his wings. It felt just like mounting Zeph.
They quivered, and Pippa felt quivery too. If she was closer to the stars, she might even be able to make out the Seven Sisters as well.
“Up, Tazo!” she whispered.
But Tazo didn’t move.
She tried Euippe’s word—“Petesthe!”—leaning forward so her chest was pressed against his neck. His wings quivered more quickly, but still he did not take flight.
“You can fly,” Pippa encouraged. “I know you can.”
Chasing after the escaped nightmare had helped him fly before. She was trying to figure out what would work instead, when, “Wait!” came a cry from above.
Pippa looked up to see Hero, on the back of Pecklion.
The hippalektryon landed with a thud, and Hero tumbled off his back.
“Hero!” Pippa cried, dismounting, surprised at how happy she was to see him.
He was trembling.
“These—these things found us,” he stammered. “I didn’t see them coming, but Tazo must have because he took off. They surrounded me and Pecklion.”
“They?”
“I don’t know what they were. None of the stories about Hercules ever mentioned them. They were children, but not quite. Ghosts, maybe.”
“The taraxippoi,” gasped Pippa. “You were surrounded by them and you escaped?” For once, she knew he was telling the truth and she couldn’t help being impressed.
The Colt of the Clouds Page 9