Jason and the Gorgon's Blood

by Robert J. Harris

  “Hang on!” Lynceus cried again.

  Alcestis began uttering a steady stream of prayers, calling on Zeus, Hera, Poseidon, and every other god she could think of to protect them. A gut-jarring lurch cut her off as the boat launched into the air.

  For a few breathless seconds the Swift really was flying: down, down, down the side of the falls. The boys and Alcestis had to hold on to the sides of the boat in order not to be thrown into the roiling river.

  Then the Swift hit the water again with a sickening smack that pitched her little crew flat on their faces. The boat spun helplessly in powerful eddies as one by one the boys scrambled back to their places, grabbing at the oars that threatened to slide out of their locks. Alcestis alone remained where she’d been thrown.

  “Grab your oars and try to steady her!” Jason yelled above the noise of the river, and the boys were quick to do his bidding.

  They stabbed the oars into the water, using them to resist the whirling currents. Gradually they gained control of the Swift and managed to aim her prow directly downstream once more.

  “To the right!” Lynceus yelled.

  Ahead of them, a round boulder rose out of the water like the humped back of a giant serpent. The rowers tried to turn the boat, but the rapids had them completely in their grip. Idas tried to fend the boulder off with his oar, but the impact knocked the oar out of his grasp.

  “Look out!” he yelled, leaning into the water and retrieving the oar.

  Now the driving current slammed them against the rock, and they were jolted to the right. The boat shivered and bounced on the water.

  “It’s all right!” Lynceus exclaimed with a nervous laugh. “We’re still afloat.”

  “Hold on to your oars!” Acastus ordered. “There are plenty more rocks ahead!”

  The Swift swerved and tilted, the prow rising suddenly upward, then dipping sharply away.

  “More spray ahead!” Lynceus warned.

  They held tightly to their oars. This time Alcestis was not alone in her prayers.

  The next waterfall was bigger and higher. The rushing torrent threw the Swift into the empty air. Screams erupted all around. Idas, forgetting his prayers, hurled a bitter curse at the gods for their indifference.

  This time when they came down, it was with a smack that threw them to the floor of the boat in a tangle of limbs. A huge plume of water erupted from the stern and crashed down on them.

  “We’re going to sink!” Admetus cried.

  “There’s a jug here somewhere.” On his stomach still, Lynceus scrambled about, looking for the jug.

  “I’ve got it!” Alcestis called, and immediately started bailing by scooping up water and flinging it over the side.

  Jason pulled himself onto his knees. Gazing in horror through the spray, he saw that they were headed straight for a rock as sharp as the beak of a monstrous bird. Clearly it would stab right through the hull and smash the boat to splinters. Leaping to his feet, he seized his oar and lunged, driving the oar at the rock. The wood snapped in two under the impact, and Jason was thrown off his feet. His arms flapped uselessly, and he toppled over the side into the churning water.

  Lost in the chaotic flood, he kicked upward with all his might. His head broke the surface and he coughed, spitting out water. The eddies twisted him giddily about; the river spun around him in a blur of silver-and-white foam.

  Then he saw the keel of the Swift veering sharply toward him. He tried to grab a breath and dive under it, but too late. The edge of the wood smacked him in the head. Pain lanced his skull. Blackness closed over him, and he was sucked down into the hungry waters.

  CHAPTER 24

  THE LAKE

  IS THIS WHAT IT’S LIKE to be dead? The thought seemed to come to Jason from nowhere, and that was exactly where he was—nowhere.

  All around him was a darkness so complete, it was as if he were in a bottomless pit of tar. He could feel nothing of his own body: not an arm or leg.

  Is this is how the spirits of the dead are supposed to be, he thought, like a thin, drifting shadow? Chiron had taught him that spirits could be summoned back briefly to the upper world by a sacrifice of blood to speak their secrets to the living. Will anyone ever bother to summon me back, or does my story die with me?

  Then, suddenly, he saw a glimmer of light, heard the slap of water on a nearby shore.

  Now he knew exactly where he was. The light was the lantern of Charon, the ferryman of the Underworld, who was waiting to carry him across the River Styx to the Land of the Dead. The sound he was hearing was the murmur of that poisoned river.

  “Jason?”

  That voice. How strange that the ferryman of the dead should address him in a young girl’s voice.

  “What’s happening? Is he waking up?”

  That voice sounded familiar, too. Lynceus? Admetus? Idas?

  “Open your eyes, Jason!” There was no mistaking that tone. Acastus!

  He forced his eyes to open, and now the light was growing stronger, spilling over him, warming him. Flames, a campfire. He tried to sit up, and immediately pain and nausea overwhelmed him.

  A hand on his shoulder. “Steady, Jason. You’ve taken a bad hit.”

  He touched his fingertips to where the pain was worst and found that a bandage had been wrapped around his head.

  “It’s as clean as I could make it,” said Alcestis, “and I found some agrimony growing nearby. I ground it with a rock and used it to treat the wound.”

  “You can stop fussing over him now,” said Acastus. “He’s going to be fine.”

  “What happened?” Jason’s voice was a dry rasp. “I thought I was dead.”

  “You almost were,” said Lynceus. “Luckily Idas just had time to reach down and grab you before the current carried us off.”

  Jason was sitting upright now, still dizzy. Idas passed him a water skin, and he drank thirstily.

  “I’m surprised you didn’t have your fill of water when you went under,” Idas joked.

  “Thanks—thanks to you I didn’t.” Jason’s voice was still raspy.

  Idas shrugged. “We’d all have gone under if we’d hit that rock, but you managed to turn us just enough to keep the boat safe.”

  Jason blinked and looked around him. Things were still spinning. “Where are we?”

  “Soon after we got you back aboard, things started to calm down on the river,” said Acastus. “By nightfall we’d managed to reach the northern shore of Lake Boebis, so we stopped here to make camp.”

  “Rather than risk getting lost,” Admetus added.

  “We need to get moving again,” Jason said. He stood up, only to find the earth swaying.

  Idas jumped up and helped him sit down again. “Easy, easy, you’re no use to us in this condition.”

  Reluctantly Jason agreed. He drank a bit more of the water and, after a while, even ate some of the bread that Alcestis had crumbled and made into a paste. Only then did he feel better.

  “We’ll grab a few hours’ sleep and start up again before dawn,” Acastus said.

  Even a few hours made a difference to them all, though Lynceus insisted that Jason take the stern seat for the rest of the trip. During their brief stopover, Idas had cut down a sapling to replace the broken oar.

  The fresh air gusting up from the lake helped to clear Jason’s head as they moved swiftly over the calm water. They spotted several fishing boats out for an early catch, and the fishermen waved to them as they sped past.

  There was a village on the far side, and as soon as they had dragged the Swift ashore, Acastus called together some of the locals.

  “I am your prince, Acastus, son of Pelias,” he announced to them, “and I need your help.”

  “He’s the prince, sure enough,” one old farmer told his friends. “I saw him last year, standing beside his father when those bandits were being condemned to death.”

  “Has anybody here seen any sign of centaurs?” Acastus asked.

  A murmur went through th
e little crowd, and a man stepped forward. “I was out in my boat about twilight,” he said, “off the western shore of the lake. I heard the noise of horses’ hooves, and I looked out for chariots. Instead I saw a couple of centaurs, though it sounded like more. They disappeared into the trees, and I saw no more of them.”

  “They’re here!” cried Jason. “Assuming they stopped for the night, we may just have got here in time.”

  “Is there a wagon around here?” Acastus demanded.

  “Laentes has one,” somebody called out.

  “But you’d be as quick pulling it yourself as trusting that old nag of his!” another said with a laugh.

  “Someone fetch this Laentes,” Acastus commanded. “We have to get to the city as fast as possible.”

  “The rest of you need to go on to Iolcus,” said Jason. “I’ll try to find out where the centaurs have gone.”

  Acastus shot him a sharp look, but there was understanding in his eyes.

  “What? In your condition? And alone? You can’t be serious, Jason,” Admetus said.

  “I’m fine now,” Jason assured him quietly. “Chiron told me to recover the Gorgon’s blood, to keep it from being used. That’s what I have to do.” He didn’t dare tell them that he’d no intention of entrusting himself to King Pelias’ protection. Once he was in Pelias’ court, the story of his birth would be revealed and his life would be forfeit. More than that, Chiron had made it clear that under no conditions should King Pelias have the Gorgon’s blood.

  “Look,” he added, “what good is it for all of us to go to Iolcus? King Pelias has an army. He doesn’t need us. We don’t even know yet where the centaurs are, or what their plan is. Somebody has to track them down.”

  Jason took a swallow from his water skin and wiped his brow.

  “Won’t they just be going straight to Iolcus?” Lynceus asked.

  Acastus gave a short snort. “There aren’t enough of them to take a whole city,” he said slowly while Jason nodded. “Not a city like Iolcus.”

  “Don’t forget the poison,” said Jason.

  “No one is forgetting the poison,” Acastus retorted. “I was just pointing out—”

  “How could they use the poison in battle?” Idas asked.

  Lynceus said quickly, “Poison their arrows?”

  “I don’t remember seeing any bows at Mount Ossa,” said Jason.

  “Or arrows,” Acastus added. “And we were a lot closer than you two.”

  “They might have hidden the bows and arrows someplace,” said Lynceus.

  “Even poison arrows wouldn’t make a decisive difference in a battle,” said Jason.

  Acastus agreed. “My father’s warriors outnumber them four to one.”

  “And the centaurs know it,” Jason said slowly. “Which means it’s not a battle they’re looking for. At least not until after the poison’s done its work.”

  “What work?” Idas exclaimed in exasperation. “You can’t just throw the jar at your enemy. And if the wind shifts—”

  “They could ride into the city,” mused Alcestis, “pretending friendship, have dinner with my father and all the nobles, and poison the wine. That way—”

  “They’re not exactly built for stealth,” Admetus pointed out. “And not bright enough to pretend a friendship. Even if your father would let them in the gates.”

  Idas smacked a fist against his thigh. “For all the ideas we’ve come up with, we might as well all have drowned in the river!”

  His words jolted Jason’s mind back to the rapids. For a moment he’d believed he was going with Charon across the Styx, the poisonous river that wound its way seven times around the Land of the Dead.

  “Poisonous river,” he murmured.

  Acastus’ eyes narrowed. “What?”

  “They’re going to poison the water!” Jason cried. “Nothing could be faster. Or more deadly.”

  “Of course!” Acastus looked grim.

  Jason turned to him. “What’s the most important water source for Iolcus?”

  Without hesitation Acastus answered, “The spring of Melokrene to the northwest of the city. It flows into a pool called the Pool of Demeter.” His eyes were wide. “From there it feeds into every underground stream and well for miles. Every year our priests offer sacrifices there to purify the water.”

  Jason leaned forward, put his hand on Acastus’ shoulder. “That’s it! From that one place the Gorgon’s blood could spread throughout the whole country. Demeter’s Pool. Hundreds would die before they realized the danger.”

  “And if the water’s poisoned, it would seep into the land,” added Admetus.

  “Crops would fail,” said Alcestis in a stricken voice. “Our herds would die, too.”

  “Wait a moment, wait a moment,” Idas said. “No poison could do all that.”

  “No ordinary poison could,” said Jason, “but the blood of the Gorgon Medusa is deadlier than anyone can imagine.”

  Acastus jumped up. “We have to go straight to the spring,” he said. “It shouldn’t take us more than a couple of hours to get there from here. Alcestis can take the wagon to Iolcus and warn Father.”

  “It looks like the five of us have a bit farther to go yet,” said Admetus with a weary grin.

  “Admetus, I want you to go to the city with Alcestis,” Acastus said.

  “Me? Why me?”

  Acastus laid a hand on his cousin’s arm. “Because I need someone I can trust to protect her. There’s no telling what dangers may still lie between here and the city.”

  Admetus glanced at Alcestis and gave a nod. There was a flush to his cheeks.

  “And I need someone my father will listen to,” Acastus added. “Tell him to arm his men and prepare his chariots.”

  “You can trust me, cousin,” Admetus said.

  “But I have as much right to find the centaurs as any of you,” Alcestis said.

  Jason moved smoothly to her side. “If your father isn’t warned, none of what we do matters here. You have the more difficult task. If you don’t make it through …”

  She nodded. “All right, Jason. But I don’t see why I need a companion.”

  He said carefully, “If one of you doesn’t get through, there’s hope the other can.”

  “Ah.” She seemed happy with that explanation.

  By now the wagon had appeared. Alcestis and Admetus climbed up beside Laentes the farmer and set off on the track to Iolcus.

  “If we’re right, we’ll find the centaurs at the pool of Demeter,” said Jason.

  “And what do we do then?” Lynceus asked warily. “There are only four of us now.”

  “Do whatever we can to delay them until my father catches up with us,” said Acastus

  “And get that jar of poison!” Jason added.

  CHAPTER 25

  THE TRAIL

  THE VILLAGERS PROVIDED THE boys with fresh supplies of water and food and wished them well on their journey. As they set off, Jason was grimly silent. He knew that whenever King Pelias appeared, it would mean the end of his fragile alliance with Acastus.

  He had faced so many dangers already, and yet one of his own companions was still the deadliest threat of all.

  By midday they had reached a group of rocks, like the building stones of giants, piled one atop the other. They decided to take a break and rest for a few minutes in the shade.

  Lynceus clambered to the top of the highest boulder and, shielding his eyes from the sun, scanned the surrounding countryside. “I can’t see anything but more hills and more trees.”

  “But we are within an hour of Demeter’s Pool,” Acastus proclaimed. “I know this place. I have camped here with Father. Take heart. It is not long now.”

  Jason was surprised at Acastus’ speech. It was the first time he’d sounded like a leader.

  The boys responded to his words. A new sense of purpose lent them all strength. They stood and went forward and, though little was said over the next several miles, there was energy in their wal
king.

  When at last they spotted the gleam of water through the trees below them, Acastus—who had been brooding the whole way—spoke up.

  “Lynceus, you and Idas get up to the top of that hill over there!” he commanded, pointing to a small hillock on the top of which was a white marble shrine. “See if there’s any sign of the centaurs. Jason and I will keep going on toward the lake.”

  The two brothers followed his orders at once.

  Acastus strode off quickly through the light foliage so that Jason had to hurry to catch up.

  “There’s something else on your mind, isn’t there?”

  “Of course there is,” Acastus replied abruptly. “Hasn’t it crossed your mind that the centaurs may already have come and gone? The water may already be carrying its poison to my city.”

  “You’re right,” Jason admitted.

  “And there’s only one way to find out for certain,” Acastus said grimly.

  “You’re going to drink the water!” Jason exclaimed.

  “Do you have a better plan? We don’t have any time to waste. If the water’s safe, we’ll know the centaurs haven’t arrived yet. If not, you will have to make sure that the news of the danger is spread as quickly as possible. Thousands of lives will be at stake.”

  “You may be right,” Jason admitted hesitantly, “but there’s no reason the drinker has to be you.”

  “There’s every reason!” Acastus increased his pace. “I am the prince of Iolcus!”

  Jason matched him step for step. “That’s no reason to kill yourself. After all, I’m the one Chiron charged with bringing back the Gorgon’s blood. It’s my fault we didn’t get it.”

  Acastus rounded on him, his face twisted with anger and pain. “Back at Mount Ossa, I almost had the poisoned blood in my hands,” he said, his voice tight and strained, “but I missed my chance. If this land is to die because of my failure, then I should die with it.” He turned back to the path and rounded a final turning.

  There ahead lay the Pool of Demeter, shaped like a silver shield.

  Jason grabbed for Acastus, but at his touch, Acastus rounded on him and whipped out his sword.