Mood Riders (17 page)

At last Iphigenia seemed to look at her friend, though no sign of recognition crossed her face.

“I think she has seen you,” Penthesilea whispered. Her hands moved inside her cloak to loosen the dead deer. “Whether she has understood I cannot tell. We must act, whether she understands or not. Are you ready, Myrina?”

“Yes.”

Myrina clutched in her hand the open bag of incense that Atisha had given them. Usually Atisha would use but one grain to give a strong scented smoke, but this time, as the priest Chalcis carelessly threw a small handful of incense grains into the fire-bowl, Myrina leaned forward and tipped the whole of Atisha’s bag into the flames. There was just one short moment of surprise when the few people who’d seen the gesture stared at her, puzzled and suspicious, but then immediately thick white clouds of powerful smoke billowed out of the dish.

The women wasted no time, leaping forward at once. Cassandra and Myrina snatched Iphigenia, one on each side, while Penthesilea flung down upon the altar the body of the slaughtered deer. Then they dashed straight ahead, into the forbidden grove, running past the statue and fast down the hill through the sacred olive trees, to where Centaurea was waiting at the bottom with the horses.

Behind them smoke billowed thick as a cloud, making eyes run and throats gasp and cough. The Moon Riders didn’t stop to see it.

Penthesilea was the first to leap onto her horse. “Give her to me,” she cried.

They had half-dragged, half-carried Iphigenia, like a limp doll between them. Now they hauled her up into Penthesilea’s arms and without waiting for them to mount their steeds and follow, Fleetwind was off, heading north, out of the city and out of that land.

Myrina and Cassandra could hear rising cries of anger and frustration behind them as the tightly packed crowd pushed and shoved in panic.

“Don’t stop!” Centaurea shouted.

Cassandra sprang onto Arian’s back.

Myrina swung herself up onto Isatis. Within moments they were cantering after Penthesilea, urging their horses to a gallop as they reached the outskirts of Aulis. “If ever you ran like the wind, the time is now, my dear Isatis,” Myrina whispered. And the blue-black mare did not let her down.

Back at their small camp by the stream, Penthesilea stopped for a moment so that the others could catch up with her. Cassandra was distraught when she saw the glazed look and still limp body of Iphigenia.

“She’s drugged,” Penthesilea told them. “Don’t fear for her. She cannot seem to hear or speak, but she lives and breathes. Force a drop of water between her lips, then we must ride again.”

Centaurea brought fresh water and they managed to get a few drops down Iphigenia’s throat, but then they re-mounted and rode north without stopping all through the night.

A
S DAWN CAME
, they began skirting the lower slopes of Mount Parnassus. Penthesilea insisted that they must stop and eat and drink at a clear spring.

“Come here, Cassandra,” she called. “Here’s a sight will cheer your heart.” She swung down from her horse, Iphigenia still in her arms, but they could see at once that a faint rose blush had touched the young girl’s cheeks.

Myrina took the rug from her horse’s back and spread it on some soft grass. “Lay her down here,” she said.

They bent over her, full of concern, and Iphigenia moved her lips as though they were numb and stiff. “Moon-lady,” she murmured. “Moon-lady!”

Penthesilea chuckled. “She seems to think that I am Artemis and I have spirited her away.”

Then suddenly Iphigenia looked up at Cassandra, her eyes full of recognition. She lurched forward, stiffly holding out her arms. Cassandra scooped her up and they stood there hugging each other tightly, while the other three watched, huge smiles on their faces and tears in their eyes.

“Dear little friend!” Cassandra murmured, gently rocking Iphigenia.

“I knew that you were there with me,” Iphigenia whispered.

“Did you see me there in front of the temple?”

Iphigenia spoke solemnly. “You were there with me, long before that,” she said. “I was never really alone, just as you promised.”

“Now we must eat.” Penthesilea insisted that they be practical. “We’ve bread, olives, and cheese from Aulis market stalls. We must all eat whether we feel like it or not, then quickly ride on and not stop for anything else.”

Iphigenia clung to Cassandra and wouldn’t leave her side but she obediently ate what they gave her and smiled at Myrina. “You are the Snaky Horse-girl.” Her voice was croaky. She was still shivering from shock, but they were encouraged that she recognized Myrina, too.

“Did somebody give you something to drink?” Centaurea asked.

Iphigenia looked vague for a moment, then she spoke. “Mother,” she said. “My mother gave me strong wine to drink.”

Centaurea nodded. “Poor woman,” she whispered. “What else could she do?”

When they got up to remount, Cassandra led Iphigenia to ride on Fleetwind again. “Penthesilea is the best horsewoman of us all,” she told her. “We’ll all be able to move faster if you ride with her.”

Penthesilea hauled the girl up in front of her. “Moon-lady,” Iphigenia murmured.

“Ha!” Penthesilea laughed.

They traveled on for four days, stopping only for the briefest rests. At times the horses carried them half-asleep on their backs. The beasts seemed to sense the importance of constantly moving on, and at last they began to travel more slowly again, with Centaurea happy to be back in her homeland of Thrace.

“We must make camp and rest for a few days,” Penthesilea told them as they neared the familiar town of Abdera. “Our horses have carried us like magical steeds, but we must not push them further. Besides we’ve no food left and I think we are safe here.”

They all agreed, glad to be among the friendly tribes again. They were welcomed and feasted, but decided that it was wise to keep Iphigenia’s identity secret for the time being.

“This is my niece, Genia,” Penthesilea announced. “We take her north to join the Moon Riders; she is our new recruit.”

“I
would
like to join the Moon Riders,” Iphigenia told them.

Penthesilea held her as she spoke, whispering gently, “You know that you cannot go back?”

Iphigenia nodded.

“I know something of what that feels like, for I left my family when I was your age to travel with the Moon Riders and I have never been able to go back to them.”

Iphigenia understood. “I’d rather be here with you and Cassandra and the Snake Lady,” she told them firmly. “It is just that—I wish my mother knew I am safe.”

The weather was warm while they camped at Abdera. Iphigenia slept peacefully each night, snuggled up to Cassandra. Myrina was relieved to see that both the troubled princesses seemed to have found peace at last.

A few days of rest and good food made them all feel stronger, and on the third day some Thracian horse traders passed through the town telling everyone of the miracle that had taken place at Aulis.

The marketplace at Abdera was alive with gossip. “They say that Artemis herself appeared and snatched the little princess up into her arms! She flew away with her, high into the sky.”

“I should think so, too,” was the general response. “Damned shame—the very idea of it—sacrificing a young girl like that!”

“The goddess left a white deer in the princess’s place and the priest sacrificed that instead—now the wind has changed.”

“Doesn’t the wind always change at this time of year?”

The Moon Riders listened to it all with satisfaction. “We’ve gotten away with it.” Myrina laughed.

“Yes. But we mustn’t let our guard drop,” Penthesilea insisted.

The following morning brought sadness again when Cassandra told them that she must leave them and return to Troy.

“Have you had another dream? Have you seen something in your mirror?” Myrina asked.

“No.” Cassandra was very firm and clear about it. “This is no dream or vision; it is simply that I think of my family and I think of the city that I love. All those ships, that bronze weaponry, all those warriors, rank on rank of them; they carry their war to my city and I must be there.”

“There’s nothing that you can do to help.” Penthesilea didn’t like the idea at all and Myrina even less.

“Why should you go home to a family who’ve never believed a word you said, or ever given you much of their love?”

But Cassandra wouldn’t give way. “I must be there with them,” she said.

“Can I come with you to your city?” Iphigenia begged. The thought of being parted so soon from her dear friend was terrible to her.

Cassandra took her hand. “You wouldn’t be safe there and I would worry about you all the time. You must travel on to the Moon Riders’ camp. Atisha, their chief, will take good care of you. I shall be happy knowing that you are safe with them. Please try to understand. You and I will never be parted in our hearts.” Cassandra touched Iphigenia’s face.

“Yes,” Iphigenia agreed. “As before. I will not be alone.”

Tears sprang to Myrina’s eyes as Iphigenia took the pearly crescent moon from about her neck and slipped it over Cassandra’s head. It seemed this pampered child had grown up and lived a whole lifetime of experience in just one phase of the moon.

Then Cassandra was fumbling at her belt with shaking fingers and suddenly Myrina knew what she would do. The Princess of Troy held out her precious obsidian mirror wrapped in its leather pouch.

Iphigenia took the gift, a little puzzled as to what it was.

“This is more than the dark shining stone that you will find inside,” Cassandra told her. “Its magic will give you power if you learn to use it well.”

Iphigenia took out the gleaming, black mirror and smiled. “It is beautiful,” she whispered. “What will I do with it?”

“I will teach you how to use it,” said Myrina.

When they saw that Cassandra was determined to return to Troy, they set their minds to making plans. They would travel on through Thrace together, cross the Hellespont and see the princess safe inside the city walls. Then they would head north toward Elikmaa, where they’d wait for Atisha and the other Moon Riders.

W
HEN THE SMALL
band of women reached the land they called the Thracian Chersonese, they found warriors camping by the riverside, their spears and weapons visible as they approached. Penthesilea slowed them all up, wondering whether to take a more westerly route. Though she’d willingly challenge any warrior, the safety of her two royal charges was uppermost in her mind.

She need not have worried for Myrina stared ahead at the tents, joy rising in her.

“Mazagardi!” she cried. “Mazagardi tents and horses!”

“Your tribe?” Penthesilea laughed with relief.

“But what are they doing here?” Myrina puzzled. “They should be by the Black Sea at this time of year.”

As they moved forward, a single warrior rode out to meet them. Myrina urged Isatis ahead. “Tomi, it’s Tomi!” she cried.

The others followed her, smiling, as the two perfectly trained mounts slowed down, side by side, so that Myrina and Tomi could lean across to kiss each other, still on horseback.