Wings of Olympus

by Kallie George

  Pippa pushed the feeling aside. If she wanted to stay with Zeph, if she wanted to keep him safe, it was the only way.

  Bas’s eyes were bright with hope. “It’s perfect. Perfect, Pippa. Ares doesn’t care who’s riding. As long as his horse wins, he’ll be happy. And Aphrodite? She hasn’t even bothered to meet Pippa, so I can’t see her minding, either.”

  “Didn’t you hear what happened to Theodoros?” Sophia cried, a little too loudly.

  “But this is different,” said Pippa in a rush, wishing for a moment she had only told Bas. “We aren’t really cheating. We’re just . . . switching.”

  Sophia shook her head, but she said, “I suppose. Though I have never heard of such a thing happening in a race.”

  “But that doesn’t mean we can’t,” said Pippa forcefully. “Please, I have to do something.”

  Sophia frowned. “Riding your best is doing something.”

  “Riding my best won’t help me win,” said Pippa. “The Fates told me so.”

  “You met the Fates?” Sophia’s eyes widened.

  “By accident,” said Pippa, explaining her visit, and Atropos’s second appearance. She ended by showing Sophia and Bas the map.

  “No wonder you can fly around the mountain without getting lost,” said Bas. Then added, “I don’t understand it. Why would it be fated that you must lose?”

  “It doesn’t matter,” said Pippa. “We are going to change it.”

  After a long pause, Sophia said, “While I don’t think you should try to trick the gods and goddesses, you and Bas should do what you must. I am still going to ride my hardest.”

  “Of course,” said Pippa.

  “But it is a clever plan,” she added.

  Pippa smiled. Coming from Sophia, that was high praise.

  Sophia reached for Pippa’s hand. “Nikepteros.”

  “Nikepteros,” Pippa murmured back, giving Sophia’s hand a squeeze. Victory in flight.

  Later though, as Pippa got Zeph ready for the next morning, she wondered whether her plan really was so clever. She hated that she was taking advice from Khrys. But it was not the same as hurting a horse, and that made her feel better.

  All that really mattered was Zeph. “When I win, I will stay in these stables and care for you,” she whispered in the horse’s ear. Yes, Ares would be Zeus for a day . . . but it was just a day, not forever, and she would make sure Zeph was safe. She reached for his brush. “Kerauno can live with Zeus and carry the thunderbolts. You’d rather chase butterflies, wouldn’t you?” She gave him a playful kiss on the nose, then began to comb his coat, brushing until it shone.

  When she was finished, she braided the pearls into his mane one by one. They looked like sunlight glinting off the water. Pippa hugged Zeph tight, knowing it might be the last time she was with him, alone, until after the race.

  “It’s okay,” she said. “At least, soon it will be. Trust me.”

  Zeph snorted. Was he disagreeing with her? She should have known he wouldn’t like the plan. Horses did not like secrets.

  Nineteen

  The day of the race dawned clear and bright. The only clouds were the colorful ones that ringed the mountain and marked the course. But Pippa knew the good weather wouldn’t last. Bellerophon had warned them that Zeus always conjured foul weather during a race to further challenge the riders. What would it be this time? A hurricane? A snowstorm? Fog, like those three children—now taraxippoi—had been lost in?

  A hush fell over the stables as the riders readied themselves and their horses.

  Pippa slipped the golden bridle on Zeph, and he waited impatiently, nudging her as she changed into her clothes for the race. She had avoided her chambers in the chance, unlikely as it may be, that Pandaisia, the Grace, was there to dress her. Her outfit, after all, was far from standard. Besides the special chiton Atropos had brought for her, she was wearing a large cloak from her room. That had been Sophia’s brilliant suggestion.

  Bas was going to wear his cloak, too. The cloaks, tucked around them, would help disguise their different sizes. But would that be enough? She didn’t know. She touched the coin she’d hidden in the folds of her chiton, under the cloak, and thought of her parents—and hoped Bas would soon be reunited with his.

  Khrys passed by and scoffed at her. “A cloak like that will only weigh you down.”

  But he said no more, for there was a loud whistle. “It is time! Riders, come!” called Bellerophon from outside.

  Khrys hurried away.

  The stomp of hooves and beating of wings filled the stables as the riders and horses left. Pippa held her breath, listening.

  When all was quiet, Bas stepped into Zeph’s stall. “Here,” he said, and handed Pippa his helmet. She gave him hers.

  While Aphrodite’s mask was beautiful, this one, with Ares’s face on it, was stern and ruthless. And heavier too.

  Another whistle split the air.

  “Go,” urged Bas.

  Pippa gave Zeph one final hug and felt the pearls studding his mane press into her cheek. His muscles tensed, as though he knew something was wrong.

  “I’ll be with you soon,” Pippa whispered.

  Then, she put on the helmet, and before Zeph could see her, slipped into Kerauno’s stall and mounted the monster.

  The riders, led by Bellerophon on his own steed, flew past the golden columns and storied colonnades of the palace, up, up to the highest peak, where the race would begin. The gods and goddesses, as well as winners of past races, were already gathered there.

  Their seats were like steps, carved into the mountainside in a semicircle, much like the seats in the hippodrome in Athens, which were dug into the hillside. But this was no hill. Instead of looking out onto a racetrack, the seats looked out onto the sky. There was only a small stone outcropping, like a ledge, directly below for the horses to start from. Bellerophon landed there and directed the riders to follow.

  As Pippa and the others swooped in and took their places in a row, the gods and goddesses began to cheer, stomping and clapping wildly. Pippa could feel the ledge shake.

  She struggled to see through the eyeholes of the heavy helmet. It was much too big and fitted badly. Kerauno jostled under her, flexing his wings. But he was calm compared to Zeph. Pippa saw him, further down the line, tossing his head, trying to jerk the reins away from Bas, searching for her. Pippa wanted to go to him and soothe away his fear. Soon enough, she thought.

  She looked behind her, up at the crowd in the stands. All the seats were full. Besides a great gathering of gods and goddesses—the only one noticeably absent was Poseidon— there were also the Muses, the Graces, nymphs, and dryads . . . It seemed everyone from Mount Olympus had gathered to watch the race. There were even centaurs, which made sense to Pippa, since they were half human, half horse. Pippa tried to spot Aphrodite among the crowd, but found Ares instead, high in the stands, standing with his arms crossed.

  How would he feel if he knew that it was not his rider wearing his helmet right now but Pippa? Thank the Muses that he was too distracted to notice.

  He was arguing with a goddess who Pippa couldn’t make out. Could it be Aphrodite? But before she could adjust the helmet to get a better look, there was the sound of a whistle.

  “Behold!” cried Bellerophon. “The god of the sky. The king of the gods! The judge of the race!”

  All heads turned, including Pippa’s, toward a swirling cloud, high above.

  Out of the cloud emerged a silver wing. The very same wing Pippa had seen so many weeks ago now, in the storm in Athens.

  “And behold his steed, Nikomedes!” announced Bellerophon.

  The horse swooped down out of the cloud, his golden hooves glittering. On his back was Zeus, twice as tall as any of the other gods, with a beard so big it obscured his face, and so frizzled it seemed to have been struck by lightning. Both horse and god tossed their heads, as they swooped through the sky. Their sleek muscles flexed and shone in the sunlight.

  “Huzzah
!” the god of gods cried as Nikomedes landed on a floating platform, in front of everyone. A beautiful mountain nymph was on it to greet him, along with a boy wearing a golden crown. Pippa could just make him out. It was Dion, the winner of the last race so many years ago. The boy bowed to Zeus, removed the crown, and handed it to him. Zeus raised it up and waved it at the riders.

  Pippa’s hands were sweating now, and her hair, under the helmet, was matted to her forehead. Kerauno jostled beneath her, and it took all her effort to keep him from lowering his head. As long as she kept his head back, he could not buck. As much as she hated to be rough with a horse, it was the only way to keep Kerauno in control. Her knees, scissored to his sides, already ached.

  “The time has come,” said Bellerophon. Although his voice was loud, there was a quaver in it. Was he nervous, too? “My thanks once more goes to Echo”—he waved to the mountain nymph positioned beside Zeus—“who shall again be the orator of this great race. But let me first remind all of you of the rules. Three times you race around the mountaintop. No harming each other’s steeds in any way. The first horse and rider to cross this mark—”

  “Oh, enough already!” Zeus boomed. “LET THE RACE BEGIN!”

  Twenty

  With a great crack, a lightning bolt blazed through the sky. For a moment, all the horses and riders, Pippa included, remained frozen, until Bellerophon cried, “Go! Go!”

  The horses lunged forward. And Kerauno was fastest. He shot off the mountain like an arrow, and it was all Pippa could do to hang on. Bas’s helmet rocked back and forth on her head as they took the lead, so she wasn’t sure if it was her imagination or real, the voice that rang out, “And they’re off, off, off!”

  She couldn’t listen; she had to concentrate, to stay on Kerauno. It took all her strength to hold the reins tight to his neck and keep her legs clenched to his sides. The voice faded, lost in the mighty draft from the beast’s wings.

  Kerauno tried to throw her more than once, but she managed to stay on. Her legs throbbed, her arms too, as they sped on, like a hurricane, to the far side of the mountaintop.

  Only clouds lay ahead of them, and behind them, the spectators had disappeared from view. The rocks below were sharp and craggy, like the teeth of a manticore.

  Except . . . Were those three old women she saw, sitting together on the rocks, waving flags? Were they the Fates? Pippa glanced back for another look, but the helmet blocked her view. She tried again, and though she did not see the old women, she glimpsed the horses behind her: Khrys on Khruse, Timon on Skotos, and behind them, Sophia on Ajax. She couldn’t see Bas and Zeph.

  Soon Pippa and Kerauno were rounding the mountain, approaching the stands again, and the sounds of cheering and singing greeted them: “‘Aloft wings beat and feathers fly, hark the horses of the sky!’”

  The chant grew louder as the crowd came back into sight. “HARK THE HORSES OF THE SKY!”

  “Kerauno remains in the lead, lead, lead!” cried the mythic maiden Echo, living up to her name. “Set to win, win, win.”

  The words filled Pippa with fire, and seemingly Kerauno too, for he flew even faster as he began his second lap. The clouds ahead were still wispy and white. Perhaps Zeus was not intending to play with the weather. Perhaps her plan would work, now that she had Kerauno under control. As she neared the spot she thought she’d seen the Fates, she looked for them, a feeling of self-satisfaction growing in her chest. She’d show them . . .

  Whish! Snap!

  Kerauno reared up without warning. Pippa slipped, and for a moment, she was airborne, connected to the horse only by her grip on his reins. Then thud! She landed back on the golden saddlecloth and struggled to regain her focus. She looked over her shoulder to try to see her attacker. It was Khrys, a whip in his hand.

  “Stop!” cried Pippa, not thinking to disguise her voice.

  “Pippa!” came Khrys’s reply. He sounded both disgusted and impressed.

  Snap! He cracked the whip again.

  This time it struck Kerauno, and he reared straight up, then lurched back down and began to buck. The reins jerked from Pippa’s hands, and she was tossed off Kerauno’s back, onto the horse’s wing.

  Bas’s helmet covered her eyes; she could see nothing. The cape tangled around her body. She could hardly move.

  Pippa clutched blindly at the feathers but couldn’t grab hold. Kerauno was beating his wings furiously, trying to shake her off.

  She felt herself slip . . .

  Twenty-One

  Whoosh! Thump! Just as Pippa began to fall, something collided with Kerauno’s side, startling the horse nearly into stillness.

  The collision jostled Pippa back into place, where she groped desperately for something to hold on to. Her fingers curled around a handful of mane, and a moment later, she was grasping the reins.

  Pulling herself back up, she untangled the cape, straightened the helmet, and was able to see again.

  There, beside her, was a thin black steed. Timon’s horse. Although Skotos did not look hurt, the horse’s back was bare, and the reins hung free. Timon was gone!

  “Timon!” she cried, and fearfully looked down. She caught a glimpse of something, but clouds obscured her view.

  Timon had held back and swerved his horse into hers. He’d saved her, and fallen because of it.

  Of course, Timon could not be hurt, but what had happened to him? She hoped with all her heart that he would make it back to the Underworld, back where he felt he belonged.

  Around her, the wind wailed. Zeus was brewing a storm, after all. In the distance, black clouds rolled in, engulfing the riders ahead of her. Most of them were ahead of her now, including Khrys.

  Pippa had to make up the lost time. The third lap was approaching, and the sound of the crowd, no longer singing now but shouting, once again filled the air.

  “Aho! A new horse has taken the lead! Khruse soars ahead, Ajax follows, as the third and final lap begins! Feathers fly, fly, fly . . . And lightning too!”

  Lightning was zigging and zagging in front of Pippa. It crackled and buzzed, illuminating the sky in bursts of brightness.

  Pippa crouched low, raised up slightly above Kerauno’s back, as she directed the horse around the flashes. Rain fell, battering against her helmet. The cloak, untucked and flapping behind her now, was torn away by a blast of wind.

  The storm did not slow Kerauno. Pippa leaned into him as he overtook the other horses one by one, including Zeph. She could see Bas struggling to keep her little horse on course. Is he looking for me? she wondered. She didn’t know, but turned her attention back to the race. At last, she caught up with Khrys. He too was focused.

  The clouds tumbled and heaved in front of them. A flash lit up the sky, and Kerauno roared. Khrys turned his head and caught sight of her, his focus broken, his eyes wide in surprise. Pippa saw his hand reach back—for his whip?—when a second bolt of lightning split the sky. Pippa managed to maneuver Kerauno out of its path. But it struck Khrys and, with a flash and a cry, horse and rider spun down in a flurry of golden feathers.

  The helmet had shifted again, and Pippa couldn’t see. Enough! The cloak was gone, anyway. Her disguise was useless. She knocked off the helmet, and it tumbled down, down to the stones below.

  Pippa could see now. Khruse was still in the air, though just barely, with Khrys clinging to his back. They were all right. But they were far off course and would never regain their position.

  Pippa was in the lead now. Only half a lap of the mountain to go. Everyone would see she wasn’t Bas, but she didn’t care. It was almost all over.

  A row of clouds that wasn’t there before stretched out in front of her. The finish line. The crowd was cursing and roaring now. Echo cried, “Faster than anyone thought possible, here he flies, flies, flies.”

  Pippa was sure she had won. And Echo hadn’t noticed the switch. But then Pippa saw something out of the corner of her eye, a small white shape she’d know anywhere. Zeph!

  The orator wasn’
t talking about Kerauno. She was talking about Zeph!

  The little horse was almost neck and neck with them now. Pippa glanced over at him. He looked magnificent. Never had she seen him so concentrated, so focused—on her!

  Pippa urged Kerauno on. She needed to win. For Zeph’s sake. Faster, faster went Kerauno. And Zeph kept pace.

  Crack! Lightning lit the sky. Kerauno flinched, and Pippa was momentarily blinded. When she could see again, there was Zeph, out in front. The line of clouds marking the finish was gone.

  The race was over.

  Zeph had won!

  Twenty-Two

  Pippa was dazed. As the lightning storm stopped as quickly as it had started, a new storm—a storm of feelings—swirled inside her. Zeph—her Zeph—had won! He had proved them all wrong. He had flown the fastest!

  But she had lost.

  She circled Kerauno down and landed on the outcropping where Bellerophon was standing. The great groom’s eyes were wide with disbelief.

  Bas was already there with Zeph, his mask off, a look of horror upon his face.

  “We won?” Bas sounded incredulous.

  “You won?” snorted Sophia, joining them with Ajax.

  “Zeph!” shouted Pippa. She slid off Kerauno’s back and ran to the little horse, kissing his nose and sputtering in the same breath. “I knew you could do it! But, oh, oh, what have you done?”

  Zeph didn’t seem to care, only wanting to nuzzle with Pippa.

  Pippa cradled Zeph’s head and stroked his nose, as the other riders landed behind her. “I should have trusted you.”

  Bellerophon strode over, his cane pounding the ground with each step. “There are a hundred rules and a hundred ways to break them. But this?! I’ve never seen this!”

  “I . . . I thought it was the only way,” stammered Pippa. “The Fates—”

  “I told you not to listen to them!” The great groom cursed. “You’ll be punished. You have to be! The race needs rules! You think you can choose a horse better than the gods? Why, you might as well have flown to their palace and seated yourself on a throne!”