“Grab my belt,” Jason said. “We’ll need to hold on to one another so we don’t get separated in the dark.”
Acastus grunted, not quite an agreement, then grabbed Jason’s belt.
Behind him crowded Admetus, then Alcestis, Idas, and Lynceus, each holding on to the person in front, going down into the awful dark.
CHAPTER 18
THE CAVERN
WHILE THE TUNNEL WAS wide enough for all of the boys, it was clearly too narrow for any centaur, and too low as well. They had to walk crouching, which was hardest for Idas.
“Most likely,” Jason whispered, “the centaurs don’t even know about this tunnel.” He had stopped for a moment, turning to look back. There wasn’t a bit of light.
“Can you still see the entrance?” he called quietly.
“Yes, just barely,” came the reply from Lynceus, who was last in line.
Jason moved forward step by cautious step, probing the blackness with his eyes until they ached from the strain. As he moved, he put his hands out and touched cave wall on either side. That, at least, gave him a sense of where he was. The walls were damp and cold, and soon he had to fight shivering.
“I think the tunnel is sloping downward, so take care,” he whispered back to Acastus, who shared this with the others.
They crept along for what felt like hours. The dark, the cold, the damp were oppressive. They had no sense of the true passage of time.
“It feels like being buried alive,” Admetus whispered.
Maybe, Jason thought, this was a stupid idea. Maybe it’s Hera’s joke—to bury us all in a rocky grave.
Suddenly he thought he saw something up ahead. The faintest glint of yellow, a pinpoint of light in the darkness. Jason blinked once, twice. The light was real.
He stopped, turned, whispered to Acastus, “Light. Ahead.” Jason could feel the others behind him tense; he heard their sharp intakes of breath. Even more wary now, he proceeded forward. But he’d slipped his sword from its sheath with his right hand, the fingers of his left still brushing along the rough walls. If the centaurs were down there, surely he would hear them.
He slowed even further, knowing they had to be silent as shadows. As he paused, he suddenly made out a distinctive murmur of voices, no louder than a distant trickle of water.
“What’s going on?” came Idas’ voice. “Why have we stopped?”
“Shhhhh!” Jason cautioned.
They crowded together as much as possible, all listening.
Then Jason started ahead again, Acastus’ hand gripping his belt.
The patch of yellow grew larger, the voices became louder. There was enough light now that when Jason looked over his shoulder, he could see the outline of Acastus’ face.
“Let go,” Jason whispered. “Let my belt go.” He pointed to his own eyes, then made a walking movement with his fingers, meaning that he was going for a look.
Acastus nodded and released his hold on the belt.
Then Jason began to creep forward until he could see the end of the tunnel and, ahead, the arching roof of an immense cavern opening out high above him.
The tunnel path suddenly began sloping upward. Dropping to his hands and knees, Jason crawled slowly up the slanting rock. When he reached the edge, he lay flat and peeked over. Below were more centaurs than he’d ever seen in his whole life.
One hundred? Two hundred? he thought. Maybe even more than that!
A sea of bearded faces and glossy horses’ flanks filled the cavern. Off to the right yawned the mouth of another tunnel, presumably the one that led outside to where the sentries stood.
Pine torches jammed into notches in the wall cast a flickering yellow light over the whole scene, making shadow centaurs caper along the walls. Resin-scented smoke rose up into Jason’s nostrils so that he had to rub his nose vigorously to keep from sneezing.
Acastus slid up beside him and uttered a muted gasp. “There’s an army of them!”
It was safe to talk as long as they kept it to a whisper. They would never be heard over the bass hubbub of centaur voices.
“Look over there, on the far side of the cavern,” said Jason. He pointed to two jars sitting upon a flat rock with one burly centaur standing guard over them.
Admetus pressed up next to them while the others crouched behind, straining for a view of the cavern.
“Keep down!” Acastus ordered them.
Jason examined the cave before him, assessing it as a hunter checks the lay of the land when tracking his prey. The centaurs had long ago cleared the cave floor of any boulders or large rocks to make room for their gatherings. They had rolled these up against the walls. There seemed to be enough cover there if he chose his moment well and moved stealthily. But Jason knew he would need every bit of skill Chiron had taught him.
Having found somewhere he might hide, he next checked the cleared floor. It was littered with the broken bones of deer, boar, goats, some of them not yet picked clean. Just visible through the milling centaurs was a shallow pit. There were bones in the pit, too, but they were not strewn about. Rather they were carefully reconstructed, forming a complete skeleton of a giant centaur that lay on its side.
Jason felt a prickling at the back of his neck as he realized whose bones those must be.
So, he thought, that’s what has drawn the centaurs here.
“They’re doing something with the jars,” Acastus whispered.
Sure enough, one of the centaurs had separated himself from the rest and picked up a jar from the rock.
Jason realized with a start that the centaur was Nessus, with his skull necklace.
“Which jar is he taking?” Acastus asked.
“I’m not sure,” Jason replied. “I can’t tell the difference in this light. Maybe the healing blood.”
“What does he want with that? Nobody here looks sick.”
“Let’s just watch and see.”
Clutching the jar to his chest, Nessus walked toward the pit, and the other centaurs parted before him. An awestruck silence fell over them, and the only sound was the steady clip-clopping of Nessus’ feet on the stone floor.
When he reached the pit, Nessus’ voice rang out with the force of a gong in the sudden hush. “You all know why we’ve come here. For too many years we have been divided, quarreling among ourselves instead of uniting. That is why the men of Thessaly have been able to defeat us, to drive us from our lands, to treat us as though we are no better than animals.”
The centaurs began an angry murmur that rolled across the cave, echoing from the walls like a wave crashing on a reef.
“But now all that is at an end,” Nessus continued, his voice rising above the noise. “Now we shall restore the leader who was lost to us. Through the power of the Gorgon’s blood, let him live again!”
Standing on the edge of the pit, he pulled the stopper from the jar and tossed it aside. Then he turned the jar over and poured the contents over the dried-out bones.
For a moment nothing happened, and still the centaurs watched the pit, hardly moving.
The thick blue liquid hissed angrily as it crawled over the bones, sounding like boiling water poured over a cold rock. Haze filled the pit, rising up like morning mist from a lake, only it was shot through with tiny sparks of flame. In the midst of the swirling vapors, a strange movement had begun.
It was difficult to tell from far away—what with the mist and the flames—but gradually the haze lifted, and then the boys and Alcestis could see what the centaurs had already witnessed. A riot of veins, arteries, and sinews had begun wrapping themselves around the bleached skeleton, like ivy running wild over the ruins of an abandoned shrine. Mud-colored flesh sluggishly bubbled over this giant structure, swelling into powerful muscles down the arms and legs. Coarse black hair sprang up along the huge frame, forming thick horsehair in the lower part, curly body hair and beard in the upper.
Then the newly restored body trembled, convulsed. A horse’s leg kicked out, a human fist thrust up
ward. In a series of jerky motions, the gigantic centaur got to his knees, stretched his arms, shook out his shaggy locks, as though shaking off the fog of a long sleep.
As he heaved himself up onto his hooves, all of the other centaurs drew back, gasping in awe. Nessus tossed aside the empty jar, and he, alone, took two steps forward, his arms held up in wonder and in worship.
Slowly the great centaur turned and looked about. He was easily half again as big as Nessus, and beneath his shaggy brows his eyes gleamed like embers. He opened his mouth wide and uttered a long, drawn-out groan.
“Who is that?” Acastus asked. “What is that?” There was a tremor in his voice.
Jason’s mouth was dry as dust. This was something he had not expected, could hardly explain.
“Kentauros,” he said at last, “the ancient leader of the centaurs.” He hesitated. “They’ve brought him back from the dead.”
“The long dead,” Alcestis whispered.
All at once the centaurs began to chant in unison. “KEN-TAU-ROS! KEN-TAU-ROS!”
The name boomed off the cavern walls, redoubling in volume. Alcestis covered her ears. The boys winced.
Kentauros nodded his head at the ovation, then—almost daintily—trotted out of the pit to stand beside Nessus.
Nessus bowed his head to his king.
“Now we know why they wanted the blood of life,” said Lynceus.
The boys and Alcestis started to back away. Jason alone stood his ground. He turned back and said to them, “This is our one chance. While they’re distracted, I can go down and get that other jar.”
“Not by yourself,” said Acastus.
“This is a job for one,” Jason insisted.
“Are you so sure you can succeed without me that you’ll spurn my help?” Acastus’ challenge recalled their previous conversation.
Jason bit his lower lip. He knew there was little time for argument. “All right, but stay low and keep quiet.”
“You don’t get to give me orders, Goat Boy.”
To their left, the ledge sloped downward, ending in a short drop to the cavern floor. There was a boulder there that would keep them hidden. Jason went first, slithering down and jumping the last few feet before diving behind cover. Acastus followed.
The centaurs, all so busy crowding around their new-risen leader, never noticed a thing.
The two boys crouched side by side.
“What now?” Acastus’ voice was shaking, though whether with eagerness or fear Jason couldn’t tell.
The chanting was gradually subsiding, but the attention of the centaurs was still entirely focused on Kentauros. In a series of quick sprints, Jason and Acastus dodged from boulder to boulder, stalagmite to stalagmite, hugging the shadows, circling around next to the wall of the great cave.
As the two made their way closer to the remaining jar, Nessus began to speak.
“A new day will soon be dawning outside,” he said, “but a greater day is dawning here in this cavern. It is the day of Kentauros!”
A huge cheer went up, and once again the cries of “KEN-TAU-ROS! KEN-TAU-ROS!” filled the air.
Jason darted behind a pile of rocks with Acastus at his heels. Now they were only a short dash from their goal.
“Once we’ve got the jar—” Jason began, then stopped, shook his head. “I don’t know how we’re going to get out of here without being spotted.”
“We don’t need to worry about that,” Acastus assured him.
“Why not?”
“Do you think they’ll dare come near us when we hold the Gorgon’s blood? We could wipe out the whole herd of them with only a sprinkling of it.”
Jason swallowed hard. It was a terrible thought. But Acastus was right. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”
Now Nessus was explaining to Kentauros about the Gorgon’s blood and how they had raised him up to lead them in war against the men of Thessaly. The great centaur listened in silence, and then a dreadful thing happened. He laughed. It was a harsh, inhuman sound.
Jason shuddered. If the dead could laugh, he thought, it would sound just like that.
“The gates of Hades could not hold me!” Kentauros declared, striking a fist against his hairy chest. “How can mortal men stand up to me?” His voice was as terrible as his laugh, cold and hollow as a tomb. He looked squarely at Nessus. “Where is Lapithes, the upstart who slew me?”
Nessus hung his head regretfully. “He is long dead, my king, but his descendants have filled all of Thessaly.”
“In that case they will be easy to find—and to kill!” Kentauros cried.
“Easier than you think,” Nessus said eagerly. “There are two jars of Gorgon’s blood. One of them gave you life, but the other is a poison, a poison so powerful we can use it to destroy all the men of Thessaly.”
Again that harsh, inhuman laugh, the sound of vultures at a feast.
Jason and Acastus were now only a couple of yards from their goal. There was still a guard by the flat rock, but with all the excitement he was completely unaware of the two boys behind him.
Without warning, Acastus shouldered Jason aside and made a grab for the red jar.
But he had jumped too quickly. His sandal caught in a crack in the floor, tripping him. He went sprawling, flat on his face, with only the body of the unseeing guard hiding him from the centaurs. All the guard had to do was look round.
“Bring me the blood of death!” Nessus’ command rang out.
Desperately Jason made a grab for Acastus’ ankle to pull him back, but it was too late.
The guard had started to turn.
CHAPTER 19
A QUESTION OF DEATH
UP ON THE LEDGE THE others had been nervously following the progress of the two boys, Alcestis constantly craning forward for a better view.
Admetus was lying on the ledge beside her, with Idas and Lynceus close by.
“Keep back,” said Admetus, tugging at her robe. “If you’re seen, they’ll be on the lookout for others. And then Acastus—”
“None of the centaurs is looking at anything except Kentauros,” Alcestis complained, but she slid back.
“I don’t blame them,” Lynceus muttered. “He’s a fearsome-looking brute.”
“He’s just another centaur,” said Idas defiantly.
Now Jason and Acastus were almost within reach of the jar.
“I wish we could do something to help them,” Alcestis said.
“The best thing we can do for them is to keep out of sight,” Admetus told her.
Just then Acastus made his move and fell. Alcestis and the others stared in horror as the command was issued to bring the jar and the centaur guard began to turn.
“We have to do something,” Alcestis gasped. She was leaning forward anxiously, her hands gripping the edge.
“Alcestis, the ledge is giving way!” Admetus warned.
He made a grab for the girl, but it was too late. The outermost part of the ledge—obviously weakened by all the weight upon it—collapsed and sent her tumbling downward. With a startled scream, she hit the stony ground and rolled against the legs of several of the outermost centaurs.
Every one of them—Kentauros included—swung around to face the source of the disturbance. While the guard was distracted, Jason grabbed Acastus by the leg and pulled him back into cover.
“Intruders in the cave!” Nessus bellowed. “The jar—now!”
The guard grabbed the jar and trotted over to his leader, who snatched it away from him.
“If you’d left me alone I might have gotten it!” hissed Acastus.
“Don’t be stupid,” said Jason. “They’re all on their guard now. It’s your sister you should be worrying about.”
On the ledge above, Idas hauled Admetus and Lynceus back out of sight. “That girl’s going to be the death of us,” he grumbled.
“No,” Admetus retorted, “she’s saved Jason and Acastus from getting caught. She’s a hero!”
“She’s a disast
er,” Idas said. “And her brother as well.”
“Maybe we should get out of here while we still can,” Lynceus suggested.
Idas shook his head. “We have comrades down there. We can’t abandon them.”
Meanwhile, two centaurs had snatched Alcestis up by the arms and brought her to Kentauros, her legs dangling helplessly in the air. She was breathing hard, eyes wide with fear. As she was carried through their midst, the centaurs began to mutter darkly. Kentauros’ face was as lean and pale as a skull. He leaned close to her, his voice echoing hollowly through the cavern. “Tell me, child, are you here alone or are there others?”
The question seemed to shake Alcestis out of her horrified stupor, like a cup of cold water dashed across her face. The boys knew all of their lives could depend on what she said now.
Alcestis’ mouth opened and closed convulsively, as if she were trying to catch words out of the air. “I’m alone,” she said at last in a tiny voice.
“And how did you get past our guards?” Kentauros asked.
“I was … here all along.” It was hardly more than a breath.
“What was that?” Nessus barked.
Alcestis flinched. “I was here all along,” she repeated, more loudly this time.
Nessus’ eyes darted around suspiciously. “Doing what? Spying?”
“I was gathering flowers outside.” Alcestis’ voice was steadier now, the words coming more easily. “I saw centaurs coming up the hill, so I ran in here. I was afraid. I’ve been warned against centaurs.”
“You’ve been here unseen all this time?” Nessus seemed skeptical.
Alcestis nodded.
The centaurs let out a rumble of displeasure and one bellowed, “Torture her!”
“That’ll make her speak the truth!” shouted another.
Alcestis’ face was pale in the torchlight, but she did not weep. If anything, the calls of the centaurs gave her strength.
On the ledge, Admetus was clawing at the stone beneath him in helpless frustration. “You were wrong about her, Idas,” he whispered as the centaurs’ threats boomed louder and louder. “She’s braver than any of us.”
“You may be right,” Idas agreed. “But I doubt her courage will save her now.”
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