Jason and the Gorgon's Blood

by Robert J. Harris

  Jason shook his head. It was a waste of time trying to get Acastus to admit he was wrong. They might as well try to force a stream to flow uphill. “Let’s get out of here,” he said. “The sooner we’re away from this place, the better.”

  Still dangling the pendant in the air, Acastus said, “There may be more treasures here, and it would be stupid to leave them behind.”

  “I agree with Jason. It’s getting dark,” put in Admetus. “We should make as much distance as we can before nightfall.”

  “There’s plenty of time,” said Acastus coolly. “What is it you’re so afraid of? Do you still think there are ghosts up here?”

  A shadow flitted across the hollow, accompanied by a strange rustling sound, and a sudden breeze fluttered through Jason’s hair. He turned to see what had caused it.

  A woman stood on the edge of the hollow. A huge pair of batlike wings was just folding up behind her back. Long yellow hair hung lankly about her shoulders and her gaunt face. She was dressed in a tunic of animal skin tied at the waist with a length of cord.

  Jason’s recognized her immediately—the woman from his dream. His first impression was of a proud, elemental creature, perhaps a mountain nymph, or even a goddess. Then he saw how thin her arms and legs were, how her tunic was torn and stained and her limbs streaked with dirt. Her feet were broad with thick, curved nails that made them more like claws. Her yellow hair was matted and filthy, and the eyes that glared through the strands flashed with the feral hunger of a wild beast. What faced them was neither woman nor goddess but some sort of monster. And a hungry monster at that.

  CHAPTER 11

  WINGED FURY

  “I WISH I HADN’T LOST my spear,” Idas cried, drawing his sword. “Maybe … she’s not dangerous,” said Lynceus. “She’s just a woman, after all.”

  At that moment, the winged woman let out an ear-piercing screech, her lips pulled back to expose her teeth. They were sharp and hooked, just right for tearing flesh from bone.

  Admetus hefted his spear. “Not just a woman, I think.”

  In response to the winged woman’s cry, two more like her plunged out of the clouds and landed at her side. One had hair as black as pitch, the other long red tresses that shimmered like flame. Slowly, as if they had all the time in the world, they folded their great wings behind, then let out snakelike hisses and bared their vicious teeth.

  “Who are they?” Idas asked.

  “What are they?” his brother added.

  Each of the women pulled a whip from behind her back. The whips were made of long strands of knotted leather.

  Acastus let the silver chain slip through his fingers, and the pendant dropped to the ground with a dull chink. “Whatever they are, I don’t think they’re here to play.”

  Now the women were uttering a series of strange chirping noises at one another, clearly speaking in some unknown tongue.

  “Didn’t Chiron tell us about something like this once?” Admetus asked. “Winged women who feed on the bodies of the dead?”

  “Of course,” Jason said, slapping his forehead. “They’re called harpies.”

  “Well, we’re not dead, so they’d better not try anything,” Idas reminded them, though his tone was not as defiant as he wanted it to be.

  “But this is their nest,” Lynceus reminded them. “They think we’re trespassing.” He paused. “And we are.”

  Admetus swallowed hard. “Maybe if we leave quietly …”

  Keeping his javelin lowered, Jason raised his other hand to show it was empty and backed slowly away. He hoped the peaceful gesture would appease the harpies. Instead the lead harpy hopped forward in a quick, jerky motion, her head twitching like a bird’s. As she hopped, she clicked her hooked teeth together alarmingly.

  “She’s going to attack!” Idas cried out.

  He elbowed Jason aside and struck out with his sword. The bronze point scored a deep cut down the harpy’s arm. Black blood splattered the ground.

  The harpy shrieked and sprang into the air, her wings unfurling like the sails of a ship. She lashed out at Idas with her clawed foot and caught him in the chin.

  Jason tried to get out of the way, but Idas careened into him like a falling tree, knocking them both to the ground. All around them chaos exploded.

  The three harpies wheeled about, shrieking madly. The flapping of their wings kicked up billows of dust that enveloped the boys in a choking cloud. Swirling grit stung their eyes and filled their mouths. They coughed and struck out with their weapons, hitting nothing. All the while, the harpies snapped their whips through the murk, lashing the boys on the arms, legs, backs.

  Painfully, Jason clambered to his feet. A sword arced over his head to bury itself point first in the ground. Realizing he had lost his javelin in the melee, he turned about trying to find it in the dust, but the red-haired harpy was upon him, raking her talons across his chest. Jason stumbled back with a howl of pain, his tunic ripped, blood spattering. He drew his sword and slashed out blindly, trying to fend her off.

  The harpy pressed forward, jaws snapping, her eyes ablaze with hunger.

  Jason had never faced anything so terrifying in his life. Even the centaurs had not frightened him this much. For all that Chiron’s cousins could be brutal and unruly, they were still partly human, and that part at least he could understand. But these harpies, though they looked like women, seemed to be goaded only by an animal hunger.

  All around him, Jason could see his companions running, ducking, falling. He heard Idas let out a bellow of defiance. Acastus was yelling something about family and honor, his voice thin and shaking.

  Then the redheaded harpy darted forward, and her teeth snapped shut barely an inch from Jason’s arm. In an unthinking rush of pain and fear, he charged at her, slashing back and forth with his blade, forcing her to retreat. It was fight or die.

  Again and again he attacked, driven on by sheer desperate fury. At last the harpy shot upward in a flurry of wings, leaving him choking in a billow of grit.

  Admetus staggered past him, the black-tressed harpy dragging him by the hair. Before Jason could help him, he was pitched face first into the dirt. With a screech, the harpy veered away. Groaning and groping about for a weapon, Admetus was a terrible sight. His tunic was shredded and his back crisscrossed with lashes.

  Jason knelt beside him and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Here!” he called out, waving his sword over his head. “All of you gather here!”

  Lynceus tried to run toward him, but a dry rib bone snapped under his foot and he went tumbling head over heels. Idas appeared, fending off a harpy with his sword. He grabbed his brother by the belt and dragged him to where Jason stood over Admetus.

  They looked around for Acastus. One of the harpies had caught the prince’s legs in the coils of her whip and had just yanked them from under him. Her talons were poised to rip out his throat.

  Jason set an arrow to his bow and hauled back on the string. There was no time for careful aim. He just hoped to hit the monster somewhere. The arrow sang through the air and tore a corner off the harpy’s extended wing.

  With a shriek of rage, the creature looked up from her victim, giving Acastus the instant he needed to kick loose and scramble over to the other boys.

  Startled but unhurt, the harpy came after Acastus, but by now Lynceus had loaded a stone into his sling. Whirling it three times, he let fly and struck the creature on the hand, breaking off one of her talons. The impact made her jerk back and leap into the sky, screeching.

  “Good shot!” exclaimed Idas. “Now we’re making a fight of it.”

  Jason passed his sword to Admetus. As if the sword in his hand lent him strength, Admetus stood.

  “There’s one coming!” Acastus warned.

  Jason whirled about, fitting another arrow. “Where?”

  “To the north!”

  Jason gaped about stupidly. Which way was north? In the bowl of the harpy nest he had lost all sense of direction.

&nb
sp; “Duck!” yelled Idas, pushing him down.

  The harpy’s clawed feet smacked Jason in the back as Acastus lashed out at her with his sword. She wheeled away, squealing and piping to her sisters.

  The three winged women now formed a loose circle in the sky overhead and wheeled about the boys. Then they descended to find perches at various points around the edge of the hollow, too far off for Jason or Lynceus to risk one of their precious missiles.

  “I’ve only got about a dozen stones,” said Lynceus. “How are you for arrows?”

  “About the same,” Jason replied. “We’ll just have to make every one count.”

  By now all of the boys were sweating and panting, their skin and clothes smeared with dirt and blood. Dust still drifted through the air and settled bitterly on their tongues.

  “I wish it would rain,” sighed Admetus, looking up at the cloudy sky. “At least that would wash off some of this muck.”

  “Look out!” Idas exclaimed. “They’re coming again!”

  The harpies had launched themselves into the sky, and now they were sweeping down from three different directions.

  Jason jerked his bow this way and that, trying to choose a target. He let fly an arrow at the black-haired harpy, but she swerved aside to dodge it. Lynceus’ shot also went wide, and then the harpies were upon them.

  Acastus, Idas, and Admetus slashed and stabbed with their blades as whips cracked about them and wicked talons jabbed at their faces. Jason tucked his bow under his arm to keep it safe and stabbed upward with one of his arrows, using it like a dagger.

  Suddenly, like leaves blown away by the wind, the harpies raced back to their perches and sat there twitching their heads and licking their wounds.

  None of them looked seriously injured.

  Worse still, they showed no sign of tiring.

  “I don’t know how long we can hold them like this,” Lynceus said, panting.

  “First you wear the enemy down,” said Acastus, “and when he falters, you move in for the kill. My father’s war counselor taught me that. And it’s exactly what they’re doing. We can’t just stay here.”

  “If we try to make a run for it, they’ll catch us from behind,” said Jason.

  “I say we make a break for it anyway,” said Idas. “At least some of us might get away.”

  “No,” said Jason. “We’re not leaving anyone behind. Chiron would want us to stay together.”

  “Then what’s your plan, Jason?” Acastus demanded, his face flushed and angry. “To stand here and die one by one by one?”

  CHAPTER 12

  THE STORM BREAKS

  JASON LOOKED AT THE others, and he could tell they were all afraid, no matter how much they tried to hide it.

  So was he.

  His stomach was knotted like a length of rope, and the blood pounded behind his eyes. If he thought about it too much, he might just throw up. Shaking his head, he forced himself to throw off the fear.

  “No one is going to die,” he said as if he meant it. “Not if we stick together.”

  “Maybe we can make it to the edge of the hollow and still keep together,” said Admetus.

  “We’d be going as slow as a tortoise,” grumbled Idas.

  “That side over there isn’t very steep.” Lynceus glanced to the right. “We should be able to make it up there without getting stuck.”

  “Then let’s go,” said Acastus, impulsively striding off.

  The others scurried after him.

  “Slow down!” said Jason, grabbing Acastus by the arm. “We’re getting separated. Remember what happened with the centaurs. We’re no match for them alone, but together we might …”

  Acastus scowled, but slowed his pace nonetheless.

  Step by nervous step they crossed the hollow. Every time there was a flicker of movement from the harpies, the boys pulled up short and pressed together, their weapons thrust out defensively.

  The harpies began to hop from one foot to the other, stabbing their claws toward the sky as if signaling. Then one suddenly pumped her wings and took to the air. She soared overhead, then plunged downward like a plummeting hawk, to land directly in front of them. She leaned down, snatched up a rock, and flung it, cracking Idas in the shin.

  For an instant, Idas seemed to buckle.

  “Up, Idas, up!” Jason cried, jerking him up by the arm.

  Idas winced. “That’ll make a fine purple bruise.”

  “By the gods!” Admetus exclaimed. “They learn fast.” He pointed.

  All three of the harpies had now scooped up armfuls of rocks. Taking to the air, they hovered ahead of the boys and, with horrendous screeches, began pelting them with stones.

  The rain of stones forced the boys to fall back.

  “Damn them to the blackest pit in Tartarus!” Idas roared, as much in rage as in pain.

  Slowly they were forced back into the very center of the hollow, where they crouched with their arms up to ward off the stone missiles.

  All the while, the harpies shrieked and hooted and twittered, which sounded a great deal like mocking laughter. Then they returned to their perches and watched their victims with hungry eyes.

  “If they’re mad at us for trespassing, why don’t they just let us go or chase us off?” said Admetus, his voice almost a sob. “Why are they keeping us here?”

  “Because they’re hungry,” Idas said darkly.

  “Hungry?” Admetus echoed bleakly.

  “Look around, cousin,” Acastus said. “They’ll eat anything.” His usual mocking tone was gone. “And now they’ve got us here, they don’t intend to let us go.”

  “Then there’s no choice,” said Idas with gloomy determination. “We have to run for it. Each of us will have to trust to his own speed. If we each go in a different direction, at least some of us will get away. Some is better than none.”

  “All is better yet.” Jason realized that they were not listening to him.

  “If only we had a way to distract them,” said Lynceus.

  Jason suddenly remembered Acastus’ stolen pack. The harpy who had sneaked into camp had come to steal food, not to prey on the boys. At least not then. He clapped his hands together, which got everyone’s attention. “We can use the food.”

  “Food? You mean our food?” Acastus looked dubious.

  “Yes. Use their hunger against them. Given the chance of a meal that doesn’t fight back, my guess is that they’ll go for it at once.”

  “Your guess?” Acastus shook his head.

  “Have a better idea?” Jason asked. “Throw it far enough away from us and they’ll chase after it.”

  “I think Jason’s right,” Admetus said.

  “I do, too,” agreed Idas.

  “All of the food?” Lynceus did not seem so sure.

  “That’s the only way we can be certain of delaying them long enough for us to get away,” Jason told them.

  “And what are we supposed to live on then?” asked Acastus.

  “Would you rather go hungry or be a meal for somebody else?”

  “You’re right, Jason,” Lynceus said, “but couldn’t we keep just a little back? For a snack?”

  “Too risky,” said Jason decisively. “We’re going to need as big a lead as we can get.” And even that, he thought, may not be big enough.

  He gathered all the remaining bread, meat, and cheese into one pack, and with his knife cut slits in the sides, just enough so that the food could be easily spilled. He left the flap open. Then he handed the pack to Idas. “Throw it as far as you can,” he said, “over that way.” He pointed to the way they had come.

  Idas gripped the pack, all the while watching the harpies. They were still hopping from foot to foot, waiting for another opportunity to attack. “Now?”

  “Now!” the boys all said as one.

  Idas swung his brawny arm, once, twice, then let go. The pack shot upward, then curved down toward the ground. When it landed, it spilled its contents in all directions.

 
The harpies instantly burst into the air with excited squawks, then raced for the food on beating wings. As soon as they landed, they jabbed and scratched one another in a frenzy of hunger, not wanting to share even the tiniest morsel.

  “Go!” Jason shouted.

  Lynceus was already away, but Idas soon overtook him with his long strides. Jason pulled ahead of Admetus with Acastus just in front of him. Then he was ahead.

  How long will the food hold them? Jason wondered. How long before they notice that their live prey has fled? He didn’t dare look back. The least delay could mean death. He just kept running, never minding the dried bones cracking and crumbling underfoot.

  They reached the far side of the hollow, and Jason felt the breath hot in his chest, his legs trembling with fatigue and fear. He was certain the others felt the same.

  Suddenly there was a horrifying flutter of wings behind him, above him. A foul breeze washed over him, and the guttural chatter of the harpies drummed in his ears.

  Without turning to look, Jason forced himself on. There was the snap of a whip and something clipped his ear; then he was over the edge, racing down the side of the mountain without even glancing at the way ahead. He stumbled and rolled over the bumpy ground, colliding with a shriveled tree.

  Looking up, he saw the golden-haired harpy above him, her wings spread out, her horrid teeth bared. Then a shock of light exploded across the sky. There was a deafening boom of thunder, and a wall of rain crashed out of the clouds, hitting the earth like a waterfall.

  Jason was drenched in the sudden downpour. It filled his eyes and trickled down his throat. Another sheet of lightning ripped across the sky, illuminating the harpy. She was twisting about in the air the way a drowning sailor is rolled in a terrible sea. The storm buffeted her about, the raindrops rattling like a shower of pebbles on her outstretched wings. Soon she lost sight of her victim, and the gusts of rain began beating her back to her lair.

  Clambering to his feet, Jason felt the ground slick and muddy beneath him. He slid down the slope, putting as much distance as possible between himself and the ravenous monsters. He tried to call to the others, but his voice was lost in the roar of the rain.