As Zeph skirted the stones with increasing ease, flying smartly and swiftly, a boldness billowed in Pippa. After a day of particularly fine riding, she’d watch their shadows, hers and Zeph’s, race on the ground below, and imagine them winning.
“Nikepteros,” she whispered. “Victory in flight.”
Twelve
Pippa never encountered another rider on the mountain. Until one day, she decided to return to the stream where she had seen the nymph playing. Using the Fates’ map, she reached the spot, only to find Theodoros there, kneeling on the bank, his horse in the water and surrounded by nymphs.
Upon seeing Zeph and Pippa, the nymphs dove underwater and Pippa could see ripples on the surface as they swam away.
Theodoros went red, tugging at his horse, Hali. Hali seemed to be chewing something and didn’t budge. Theodoros gave Hali’s reins another yank. “Come on,” he barked. This was the first time Pippa had heard him raise his voice.
“I won’t say anything if you don’t,” he said to her, finally drawing Hali out of the water and mounting his steed.
“But . . . ,” said Pippa, confused. The others knew she was being punished and had to train on the mountain. She didn’t have secrets. But clearly Theodoros did.
“I have to do this, okay? It’s Poseidon’s orders. Please don’t say anything.” He gave her a desperate look.
About what?
After he sped away, Pippa noticed strange green reeds floating in the water where Hali had been. They looked like the same kind Poseidon had thrown on her, food Bellerophon had forbidden. But when she went to take a closer look, they disappeared under the water. Should she tell Bellerophon? But she had no proof. And Theodoros had looked so afraid. She wished she could ask Aphrodite for advice. But still her goddess hadn’t made an appearance.
If Bellerophon had told Aphrodite that Pippa had gotten into trouble and was now training elsewhere, it clearly hadn’t bothered the goddess, at least not enough to come and seek her out.
Instead of worrying about Theodoros and Hali—or Aphrodite—she focused her attention on Zeph, spending more and more time with him.
She was spending all her nights in his stall. Her room in the sleeping quarters was beautiful, but uncomfortable—and lonely. She preferred the company of horses to a soft mattress. Used to years of sleeping curled on a hay bed, with the familiar snorts and swishes of the horses, Pippa slept much better in the stables.
Since Zeph’s and Kerauno’s stalls were side by side, Pippa saw Bas more than any of the others. Kerauno’s stall was cavernous, double the size of Zeph’s, because it needed to be, and Bas was often there late into the night cleaning it. Once or twice, he’d given Zeph a treat that Kerauno had refused. Not even sweets softened the monstrous horse, though Zeph certainly seemed grateful to Bas.
So when Pippa was woken one night by a cry of frustration, she thought it must be Bas. But it wasn’t.
Pippa peeked out of Zeph’s stall and discovered, to her surprise, that it was Sophia.
Sophia was standing in the doorway of Ajax’s stall, on the other side of Kerauno’s, her hands clenched into fists, her body stiff as stone. But only for a moment, because the next instant, she slumped down to the hay-covered floor.
Zeph was still asleep, his folded wings rising and falling in a steady rhythm. Pippa tiptoed out of the stall and into the hallway, toward Sophia.
“Are you all right?” Pippa asked.
Sophia stood up, startled, brushing herself off. “Oh!” she said. “It’s you. I didn’t know anyone else was here.” Her tone seemed disdainful, but then she said, “You’re always here, aren’t you? Khrys says you’re sleeping with the horses now because you don’t know how to use a bed. That boy has the arrogance of a god but the wits of a squid.”
Pippa laughed, and Sophia seemed pleased at her reaction.
“He is exactly the kind of boy I’ve been warned about,” Sophia went on. “Not that I completely blame him. When girls are only trained to stay in the house, and boys trained to believe that they are better than girls, it is no wonder. But look at us. The gods and goddesses know that we can fly and ride and do so much more!” She smiled at Pippa, and Pippa smiled back at the compliment.
“But I will have no chance of winning, not at this rate.” Sophia sighed.
“What do you mean?”
Sophia gestured to Ajax, who was standing away from her, pressed against one wall.
“Ajax is sick, and I can’t determine the cause.”
“Sick?” Pippa stepped closer to get a better look, but the gray horse didn’t seem to notice her. His eyes were dull and he looked gaunt.
“It does look like something is wrong with him,” agreed Pippa. She realized she hadn’t seen him grazing with the other horses at the end of the day.
“But what?” said Sophia. “I’ve checked his feet and hooves. There’s no lameness. I’ve examined his wings, which seem strong and sure. He doesn’t have colic or mange, for he is not sweating or itching. He has no fever, and he can stand and fly.” Sophia sighed again. “I’ve done everything I can, yet he is not alert. He barely eats, barely flies. I’ll never race at this rate!”
“May I look?” Pippa asked.
Sophia nodded. “Though I don’t expect you to find anything.”
Pippa entered the stall. Ajax’s head hung low. She crouched down beside him and carefully checked his teeth. They were worn flat, a sign he was very old. Was he too old to be a racer? she wondered. But when she stood and checked his wings, she thought again. They were strong, despite his age. Ajax shifted away from her touch, revealing the scar, wide and white, on his flank.
“I’ve checked that too, of course,” said Sophia, leaning over Pippa’s shoulder. “It’s a wound from long ago and has healed perfectly. It should not be paining him.”
“Was it from another race?” asked Pippa, as she stroked the horse’s silvery mane.
“No,” said Sophia. “This is his first. Athena told me Ajax was not always a winged horse. He was named after a Trojan warrior and was once a mighty battle horse in Sparta. That’s where he received that scar. Athena heard of his bravery and prowess and rewarded him with wings. She was confident that he would fly as fast as he galloped, but he has yet to show any ability at all. When I tried to ask Athena what to do, she gave me this instead.” Sophia pointed to a box in a corner of the stall. “Inside are his old war medallions. Useless. A scroll would have been much more help.”
As Pippa listened, she stroked Ajax’s bowed neck. She thought of the mare she had looked after back in Athens, who was afraid of storms and whose head hung similarly. She was a beautiful horse, fit to pull a chariot, but pulling a cart to market instead. Her bowed neck wasn’t from an accident or hard work but from a broken spirit.
“Perhaps he is hurt inside,” Pippa suggested.
“A stomach ailment would cause fever and sweating. I’ve checked that,” replied Sophia.
“No, I mean . . . maybe he misses being a battle horse. You said he was great—brave and revered? Perhaps he feels like this is . . . less—”
Sophia cut her off. “Ridiculous! Here he has wings! Here he is on the mountain of the gods!”
“But it’s not quite the same as being in a battle, is it?” said Pippa. She walked over and picked up the box and opened it. Inside were a gold laurel leaf and a silver medallion, like her coin but much bigger. “Maybe these aren’t for you. Maybe they’re for Ajax. To remind him of who he was. Of who he is.”
Sophia scowled and took the box, snapping it shut. “I think it’s time for you to go.”
“It was just an idea,” said Pippa quietly. She left the stall, glancing back at Ajax, hoping that Sophia would find a way to help him.
Zeph was her concern, not Ajax. She didn’t want to stir up trouble. After all, she had been warned.
Thirteen
As much as Pippa wanted to avoid the other riders—and trouble—she couldn’t.
It was a sunny afternoon, and
Pippa and Zeph were flying down the southern slopes of the mountain. They were passing over a craggy cliff when, to Pippa’s surprise, she noticed someone sitting on the rocks below.
The figure caught Zeph’s attention as well, and they flew down to investigate. As soon as they drew closer, it was clear the figure was a boy. Bas!
What is he doing here? thought Pippa. And where is Kerauno?
Although Pippa had promised herself not to get involved, she couldn’t very well leave Bas there by himself. What if he was hurt? She directed Zeph to land, and they did so at the base of the cliff.
Pippa dismounted. “Are you all right?” she called, carefully picking her way between the rocks, leading Zeph toward him. “Where’s Kerauno?”
Bas didn’t answer.
“Bas?” Pippa said again, when she reached him. Zeph nudged his shoulder, and Bas stood up, turning to face them.
His cheeks were flushed, but he didn’t look hurt. Except that his eyes were wide and filled with pain. “It’s just my fate . . . ,” he muttered.
“Are you looking for the Fates, too?” Pippa asked before she could help herself.
“The Fates? They live here? How do you know?”
“Oh, well . . . ,” stammered Pippa, remembering that they had made her promise to keep their home a secret.
“It doesn’t matter,” said Bas. “I wasn’t looking for them anyway.”
“Of course, you don’t need them to tell you . . .” She bit her lip begrudgingly. Everyone knew he was going to win. She continued, “What happened? Did you fall?”
Bas’s flush deepened. He was clearly embarrassed.
“Anyone could fall off that horse.” Pippa added, “You’re lucky you weren’t hurt. Where is Kerauno? Did he head back on his own?”
Bas’s shoulders tensed. “Please, just go away,” he said.
“I . . . ,” started Pippa.
“You can’t help me,” he said.
“Walk to the stables then, I don’t care,” she snapped, her skin prickling with anger.
She saw Bas’s shoulders tense again. “I will . . . ,” he snapped back, then he sighed and his shoulders relaxed. “I just don’t want to get you into trouble,” he mumbled. Then with a grunt, he turned his back on her and headed down the mountain.
“That’s the wrong way,” said Pippa, but Bas kept walking. “Fine!” She turned to Zeph.
What had just happened? Her skin still prickled, but she was more puzzled than angry as she mounted Zeph and they flew off, leaving Bas behind them.
Once in the air, Pippa let go of the reins, counting on Zeph to take her somewhere that would distract her. She rested her head on his neck. When she looked down, to her surprise they were above some stables.
Instead of being carved into the cliffside, these stables were an enormous structure built of honey-colored stone, with a red-tiled roof and wide steps that led to a doorway. There was only one story, separated into columns with gates. Stalls. But why were the stalls so low?
Soon Pippa understood why. As they flew over the pasture beside the stables, she saw three tiny winged horses, foals. They were half the size of Zeph, with wobbly legs and even wobblier-looking wings. They couldn’t fly to a second-story stall. In fact, could they fly at all?
Although their wings were outstretched, they were struggling to stand. One was, like Zeph, white with black-tipped feathers, and two were the opposite, black with feathers the color of apple blossoms.
Beside them stood a boy with a flop of mane-like hair that Pippa recognized at once. It was Dion, the previous winner of the Winged Horse Race. He was encouraging the one that looked like an even tinier Zeph. “You can do it! Come on, Aurae!”
The foal Aurae beat her wings furiously. Her hooves lifted.
“That’s it! Flap, Aurae!”
Zeph whinnied his own encouragement, and they landed in the pasture.
Aurae turned her head in their direction and, distracted, tumbled to the ground. Dion hurried to help her, but she stood up by herself, giving a snort that sounded like a whistle.
“There, there, it’s okay. Next time,” comforted the boy, then turned to look at Pippa and Zeph.
“So we have company.” He winked at Zeph. “Aurae is as easily distracted as you, Zeph,” he said. “That’s why I named her after one of the breezes as well.”
“Did you name Zeph?” asked Pippa. “Did you train him?”
Dion shook his head. “No, I have been busy looking after Nikomedes. But now that he is near retirement and will soon join Pegasus in the sky as another constellation, I have moved from the palace and begun to work here. You will see Nikomedes’s retirement ceremony at the end of the races, when the new winner is crowned. It is a dazzling sight—and a delicious feast.”
“Oh,” said Pippa, hardly able to imagine it. The race was only two weeks away, but time was passing so quickly. Would the gods and goddesses fight during that important ceremony? Surely not.
Dion gestured to the tiny horses, more legs and wings than body. “Some grooms like to push the foals into flight, but I prefer they take their time, learn their own way. Usually they are ready within a year. They are born much stronger than regular foals. Zeph, however, took a while to learn to fly, from what I hear. He liked exploring the ground too, as well as the air. . . .”
Pippa nodded and patted Zeph on his flank, imagining him as young as Aurae.
“These are the foals’ stables, not the racing stables,” a voice snapped. It was Archippos, the other champion. He stood tall and stern, his arms crossed.
“Dion, you know better than to invite a rider here. We aren’t supposed to converse with them.”
“I didn’t invite her,” Dion said. “She came on her own. And I wasn’t helping her cheat, if that’s what you think. Besides, you know that everyone—”
Archippos didn’t let him finish. “That doesn’t matter.” He turned to Pippa. “As for you—you might have talent, but without training, that won’t go far.”
“I’m sorry,” said Pippa, taking a step backward. “I’ll go. I can find my way back. Zeph, come.”
But Zeph was no longer beside her. He was trotting next to little Aurae, who, a moment later, began to beat her wings furiously, and, one hoof after another, lifted from the earth. Aurae was flying! Zeph skimmed the ground next to her.
“Huzzah!” cried Dion and Archippos, clapping each other on the back, and Pippa too.
“Huzzah!” Pippa cried, filled with joy. Zeph circled around the pasture with Aurae, and then they came flying back, landing in front of Pippa.
The little foal lifted her nose up for Pippa to stroke. It was so soft, like touching clouds. And for a moment, Pippa’s heart lifted up, too.
But the moment was broken by a voice, loud as the crack of a whip. “What’s she doing here?”
Fourteen
Pippa and the two grooms turned to face none other than Ares, who had appeared behind them. He frowned, and the scars crisscrossing his face pursed. In his hand, he held a long knife with a leaf-shaped blade.
“This is no place for riders,” the god yelled. “Archippos! Dion! You are sharing your secrets! I shall have none of it!” He pointed his knife at them, and Pippa noticed it was covered in silvery blood. Her skin prickled, and she took a step back.
“She came here of her own accord,” said Archippos, apparently unafraid of Ares. “We’ve told her nothing.”
“Wait until I tell Zeus of this!” Ares stormed on.
Pippa could see that, like her, Dion was trembling. But Archippos stood firm. “Tell him what? About your monster, Kerauno?”
Ares eyes flashed. He slowly lowered the knife but still spat, “Better he be monster than butterfly.” He gestured to Zeph. “That runt should have been killed at birth.”
“No!” Pippa burst. “You can’t kill the horses.”
“Of course we can.” Ares laughed. “And we do. What do you think I just came back from doing?” He wiped the blade clean on his cloak. “It
should be Hades’s task, but he is surprisingly squeamish.”
Pippa’s eyes went wide. “You-you . . . you didn’t.” What started as a cry came out in a stammer.
“Horses are killed in the mortal realm when they are badly injured,” Dion said slowly. “It is no different here. An injured wing, a broken leg . . . It would be crueler to let them suffer. The winged horses are not immortal, after all.”
Archippos muttered under his breath, “If the gods took more care with them . . .”
“Took care?” Ares said. “The horses should be strong enough for their duties. Not like that runt. He’s useless. Too small to lift a chariot into the air. Not fast or focused enough for one of Artemis’s deer hunts. As for battle? He would chase a spear into his own heart. Do you truly think that horse could carry Zeus’s thunderbolts? He’d have been killed if Aphrodite hadn’t chosen him, fool that she is. The only place he’s going to after the races is the Graveyard of Wings. I will make sure of it.”
Pippa pressed herself against Zeph, to stop her body from trembling. Of course, in Athens, horses were killed, by quickly slitting their throats with a knife, if there was no other way. She’d witnessed it once, the killing of a horse that had severe colic, and it was a terrible thing. She hadn’t known, never dreamed such a thing happened to the horses here.
Ares smirked. “I’ve scared you. Good. Better you know. Not that you can do anything about it. The race will be won by me.”
“You never know what the race will bring,” chided Archippos.
“I do know. Just as I know this girl should not be here, at these stables. You’re lucky I have changed my mind. I won’t tell Zeus about this after all.”
Whether from fear or anger, Pippa wasn’t sure, but the retort left her lips before she could stop it. “You won’t win. Not unless your rider learns to stay on his horse.”
Ares’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean. . . .”
But Pippa didn’t stay to answer. She hoisted herself onto Zeph’s back. He was agitated enough himself, and the moment she was up, he was too, his hooves lifting from the ground, leaving the god, the grooms, and little Aurae far below.
Wings of Olympus Page 7