Clash of the Titans (10 page)

Ancient trees shaded the pools and thick creepers and vines gave them a solemn appearance in the moonlight, the epiphytes trailing like a maiden's hair in the still water. Most of the insects were asleep, though the isolated buzz of a mosquito or drone of a frog would sometimes echo through the night air. There was no wind. The scenery looked as if it had lain untouched for a thousand years.

One particularly large pool was the focus of the efforts of the two men. They crawled patiently to its edge, using the gnarled, twisted roots of the great trees to conceal themselves, though there seemed nothing around to warrant such caution. The insects were busy with mundane matters; the frogs did not care.

In the moonlight the surface of the pool turned to quicksilver, fragmenting whenever a rare breeze stirred, the placid surface. Stars shone bright as gold dust against the velvet sky, flanking the beaming moon.

Perseus regarded the glowing orb a moment and saw fit to offer a brief invocation to the moon goddess Artemis, that she might continue to provide them with a clear night through the bright reflection of her own beauty. He'd thought often of Artemis. She'd always seemed such a solitary goddess, transcribing her own distinct path through the universe. He wondered if, as the stories said, her skin was truly the color of fresh milk.

Ammon gestured toward the pool, drawing him out of his reverie. "When the full moon shines on this water, then they say that Pegasus, the last of the winged horses, will sometimes come to drink."

Perseus was carefully checking over the thick rope they'd brought with them, making sure one more time that no knots or kinks had developed in the line.

Hours passed and he had checked the rope until he was sick of the sight of it. Once a buck and his doe appeared like beige wraiths to sip delicately at the fresh water, and Perseus watched with silent pleasure. When they left, the Wells of the Moon seemed empty of all life. Would the great winged stallion never appear?

"Listen," he whispered at last.

Ammon had fallen asleep against the crook of a root and Perseus quickly shook him awake.

"Listen .. . no, look there!"

There was a rushing sound, but it might well have been the wind in the branches.

"I see nothing, boy." Damn these old eyes, Ammon cursed to himself.

"There!" Perseus crouched as low as possible against the shielding tree. "From beyond the dark edge of the moon. Pegasus!"

The stallion shone as white as the chalk Perseus used to pinch from the cliffs of Seriphos. Like a fluttering white leaf, the magnificent animal spiraled lazily out of the stars. Halting in midair, it began to circle the Wells of the Moon.

Perhaps it was playing a game of tag with its own reflection in the waters below. More likely it was making a careful inspection of the terrain before descending. No doubt it was still mindful of the depredations Calibos had once wreaked on its cousins, and was still wary of touching the treacherous earth.

Eventually, satisfied with its inspection or game or both, it folded its pale wings and settled gracefully by the sloping shore on the far side of the pool. It looked once to left and right before trotting down to the water's edge.

Carefully Perseus unstrapped his helmet while cautioning Ammon to keep his head down.

At the distant whisper, the winged horse lifted its head, glancing around nervously. Both men froze. After a long moment of testing the air, the stallion dipped its head once again. This time it began to drink.

Perseus slipped the helmet over his head and promptly vanished. Ammon handed the coil of rope to empty air, felt it taken by an unseen hand. Only footprints revealed Perseus's path as he moved out from behind the tree.

Reeds and other tall water grasses swayed gently, in the light breeze. It blew toward Perseus, for which he was grateful. The stallion could not see him, but surely it could still smell, and might bolt at the scent of man.

It did not notice the reeds that parted as if at a gust of wind, and continued to drink. Settling to ground as infrequently as possible, it was quite thirsty when it did so and concentrated now on drinking its fill.

Perseus moved nearer, paused and readied the rope. Invisible or not, he knew he'd only have one throw before the stallion fled. His first toss would be his only one.

Again the horse lifted a curious head. Its ears pricked forward, straining to hear a repeat of the breaking reed it thought it had sensed nearby. But there was nothing in sight and no smell of another large creature in the night air. Yet the sound had been distinct. Confused, the horse turned away from the pool.

Perseus whirled the loop, hoping the slight whistling noise it made would not startle the stallion further. Just there, he thought excitedly. No need to wait any longer: the throw would be on the mark or it would miss. He let the loop fly.

It jumped like a snake from the concealment of the reeds and landed neatly around the horse's muscular neck. Startled by the sudden constriction, Pegasus reared, whinnying in shock and surprise.

Perseus pulled the loop tight, keeping his attention on the sharp hooves that tore up the earth in front of him as they sought an unseen enemy.

One pull yanked Perseus violently forward, but he couldn't spare a hand to grab for the helmet that tumbled from his head. Now the stallion could see its antagonist, and struck with angry forefeet at the now visible figure.

But Perseus had dodged hooves before. Without letting the rope slacken he managed to stay well out of range of the pawing feet.

Frustrated and frightened, the stallion wheeled away from its enemy and galloped in the opposite direction. The sudden maneuver caught Perseus off guard, and he had no time to admire the horse's cleverness. Somehow he managed to hang onto the rope as the stallion dragged him along the bank of the pool. He was grateful that the water's edge was thick with soft ferns and rushes, not the thorn bushes and cacti of his island home.

"Hang on, boy!" Ammon had bolted from the cover of the tree roots and was splashing and wading awkwardly around the rim of the pool after the combatants.

Pegasus began to gallop in circles, since the taller trees soon shut off any path of escape ahead and other pools did the same to each side. Breath steamed from his nostrils and his eyes were wild as he fought and bucked to shake off the restraining rope around his neck.

Ammon reached them, nearly fell, and barely managed to dodge to one side as the horse abruptly changed its direction and tried to run him down. By now Perseus, scratched and filthy but still full of fight, had managed to get back on his feet. He stumbled along in the horse's wake.

There was a stump coming up on his right. A quick prayer it was not rotten and . . . now!

The loop he'd made caught fast, quivered, and held tight around the stump. The stallion's head bent back and with a violent neigh it came to a halt.

Perseus had no time to exchange pleasantries and Ammon was too tired to, as the youth passed him the end of the rope.

"Try and make another loop around the stump if he gives you enough slack!" Perseus yelled to the breathless playwright. "Whatever you do, hold fast. You must hold!"

Ammon hardly had the strength to nod. Perseus took up the end of the rope, and using it for a guide, worked his way forward, dividing his attention between the horse's back and its dangerous hooves.

Pegasus turned suddenly, but this time he did not charge. Instead he stood quite still, ears laid back, lips curled to reveal his teeth; vapor steamed from his flaring nostrils: man and horse regarded each other expectantly.

Ammon struggled to wind another loop of the rope around the tree stump, occasionally throwing an anxious glance toward Perseus. That the youth could avoid those slashing hooves had been amply shown. But if the rope should snap unexpectedly . . .

Perseus shook himself free of his temporary daze by breaking his gaze away from the stallion's. There was death in those eyes, but also promise.

I have the catch in my net, he told himself, and it's more dangerous than I dreamed. But I would be a coward to let it go now.

He continued working his way carefully along the rope toward the motionless horse.

"Steady," he called softly, in as unaffected a voice as he could manage. "Steady, great one, steady and easy." He started whistling to it, as he'd learned to do with horses and mules as a child.

No truce was evident in those angry eyes, but the ears pricked up at the peculiar sound.

"That's a good fellow, isn't that a nice tune?" He whistled a few more bars. "Almost makes you want to go to sleep. .. . steady."

He was almost within reach of the graceful white head. His eyes once more bored into those of the horse, but his mind did not fog as it had a few moments earlier.

"Steady . . ."

He ducked quickly. The sharp teeth just grazed his upper back. Ah, prince of horses, he thought with an exultant burst of energy, you are clever, and you are fast. But you are not so clever as I!

As the teeth had darted for him, he'd gone down and forward. By the time the head twisted to snap at his rising legs it was already too late. Perseus was seated on the broad back, one hand locked in the thick mane. With the other he drew the sword of Aphrodite . . .

And to Ammon's considerable astonishment, cut the binding rope in half.

The old poet tumbled backward as the tension on the rope was abruptly released. He rolled in the dirt and grasses, trying to stay clear of the powerful legs now released to kick or run free.

He needn't have worried. Pegasus was far too concerned with the startling new sensation of a man on his back to worry about anything else. For several minutes he plunged and reared, bucked and kicked, trying to dislodge the alien weight and presence. Then other instincts took over.

Spreading powerful wings, the stallion struggled into the air. He lifted, touched ground again, and then began a steady climb as he adapted to the extra weight.

"Hold on, boy!" Ammon shouted as he got to his feet. His eyes were wide, his blood racing faster than it had in years. It was as though he and not the youth were trying to gain control of the flying horse, and he urged Perseus on with all the strength in his frail old body.

"Keep his head up, don't let him spin on you!"

It was doubtful whether Perseus heard Ammon's admonishments. He was too busy hanging on with legs and hands as the stallion soared high over the treetops. Flying turned out to be not so very different from diving, so he experienced no vertigo. But he knew that this was far more dangerous than swimming. If he were to relax his grip for even a moment, he would soon be little more than a stain upon the earth.

Pegasus dipped to his left, then his right. He dove toward trees and pulled up at the last second. Once he did a double loop and if Perseus had been hanging on with only his hands he probably would have fallen. But his powerful legs dug tight into the horse's flanks and the momentary pull did not dislodge him.

Ammon danced with frustration and worry as he watched these tortuous maneuvers. Perseus was young and strong, but no human muscles could endure forever the forces the stallion was subjecting them to. Fortunately, neither could equine muscles. Pegasus was tiring also.

There were no more loops or twists, no more violent dips and turns. Gradually the path through the sky became smoother, the acrobatics less extreme. Now and then the wingbeats would cease altogether and the horse would rest while gliding.

Experimentally, the exhausted Perseus used hand and leg to urge the horse leftward. Nothing happened. He tried again, speaking calmly to it while exerting pressure.

This time the horse tucked its left wing slightly in and down and they banked in the desired direction. Perseus eased off and their path straightened out. Now to the right this time . . . gently, gently.

Once the glowing white head turned and stared back at him. It wore an expression of uncertainty. The naked fury Perseus had first encountered had faded, replaced by something akin to acceptance. The stallion had not turned suddenly docile. Perseus doubted so spirited and independent a creature ever would. But it had become manageable.

He had won the aerial stallion's respect. Now he could proceed to the less arduous but no less important task of winning its friendship.

He experimented with other commands. Each time, the horse responded more rapidly and with greater confidence. It was willing to be taught.

Midair commands were simple enough. Perseus had grown up knowing the ways of horses and how to direct them. But he did not know a command which would make one land like a bird.

"Down!" he finally urged the stallion. At the same time he tried pushing down hard with both hands on the back of its neck. "Down." He pressed again. The horse dipped a little lower before leveling off. Perseus repeated the command and the movement, this time keeping the pressure on.

Pegasus glided smoothly toward the ground. Flushed with success, his rider used two commands simultaneously, trying to make the stallion bank left while descending. It responded immediately, almost enthusiastically, as though realizing for the first time that it had found a wonderful new game.

They were just above the surface, near the pond where Ammon stood waiting. "Hup!" Perseus took his hands off the ironlike neck, pulled gently on the mane. The horse backed air with its great wings, nearly knocking poor Ammon down again, and touched down as lightly as a hummingbird.

Carefully Perseus slid off the back, his hands still entwined in the mane. But Pegasus was as tired as he. It showed no signs of bolting, stood quietly nodding its head and breathing hard. There was no telltale tenseness in its neck muscles.

Slowly Perseus slipped his fingers free of the mane, patted the quivering neck. The horse bent and inhaled the fragrance of several night-blooming flowers. Then it began to eat.

"The most wonderful stallion in the world," Perseus murmured reverently as Ammon hobbled over. "Not another like it." His gaze went skyward.

"Ah, Ammon, my friend, to ride in the emptiness between earth and stars, to feel the wind in your face . . . I wish I were a poet like you, so that I could properly describe the sensation."