Without thinking, Jason leaped back and drew his own sword, his hand trembling with shock.
“I told you it would come to this, Jason,” said Acastus. There was a quiver in his voice that he was trying hard to control. “I told you we’d settle matters with swords, warrior to warrior.”
Jason could feel the pulse pounding in his temple, the sun beating hot on his face. Both Gorgon’s blood jars lost, the prince of Iolcus dead—could he go back to Chiron with news like that?
“No, Acastus. If Chiron were here, he’d take the test himself, and I must serve in his place.”
Rage flared in Acastus’ eyes. “Why? Because you think that you are the true prince of Iolcus and not I?”
He lashed out with his sword, but Jason blocked the blow. The bronze blades clanged together, the sound echoing through the trees.
“That’s got nothing—”
Before Jason could finish, Acastus struck again. And again. With each new blow Jason was driven farther back up the path.
Acastus paused, his face red, his chest heaving. “Don’t you see that this is your chance, Jason? If I drink the poisoned water, then you will be prince of Iolcus. It will be a blighted land filled with withered crops and dead cattle, but still you will be its prince.”
“Is that what you’re so afraid of?” Jason asked. “Can’t you see how much your people will need you if the worst happens? How much your father will need you?”
“You know nothing of kings, Jason!” Acastus yelled. “I would be a shame to my people, a weakling. No one could rule that way.” He attacked again, bronze ringing on bronze. One blow, two, then a third.
For a moment, they paused again, both boys exhausted and sweating.
“You can’t beat me with a sword, Jason,” Acastus said, gulping air. “I’ve trained an hour each day with my father’s royal guards since I was six years old.”
“Then why are you so out of breath, mighty prince?” asked Jason, though he, too, was gasping.
Acastus slashed at him.
As Jason stepped back to avoid the blow, his foot slipped on damp leaves. He stumbled to his knees, shoving the edge of his blade up before his face. The impact of blade on blade jarred the sword from Jason’s fingers, and it fell onto the ground.
Looking up, Jason saw the prince looming over him, poised for a killing thrust.
In the back of his mind, Jason heard Hera’s laughter.
CHAPTER 26
THE SPRING
“SEE TO IT THAT MY people are warned,” Acastus said.
He tossed the sword aside as if the hilt burned his fingers, then turned and ran toward the pool.
Jason jumped up. “You may be better with a sword,” he muttered, “but I’m the faster runner.” He raced off in pursuit, and—at the last second—Jason threw himself at Acastus, wrapping his arms tightly around the other boy’s legs.
Acastus toppled to the ground, and they rolled together in a flurry of kicks and punches.
“The gods damn you, Jason!” Acastus cried. “Do you want to die?” He jammed a knee into Jason’s belly and made a grab for his throat.
Jason shifted his weight and flipped the prince onto his back, pinning his shoulders to the ground.
“No more than you, Prince Acastus.” He was panting. There was a sharp pain under his breastbone. His arms ached. “But if you want a witness to your sacrifice, you should have picked somebody more obliging.”
Clenching his fist, he smacked Acastus across the jaw, hard enough to leave him stunned. Pushing himself up, he staggered the last few yards to the lake and dropped to his knees.
To his right several sparkling streams were pouring down a series of high, rocky tiers to splash into the pool. The water looked pure and clear.
Innocent, he thought. But he knew that if the Gorgon’s blood had already been poured in, the running waters would have long since diluted its crimson color. Yet it would still be just as deadly.
Jason had not been raised as the prince of Iolcus, but he had been raised with a sense of duty. It was clear to him that his duty was to protect the land and its people just as a shepherd protects his flock—even at the risk of his life. Taking a deep breath, aware that it might be his last, he cupped his hands and dipped them into the pool. He lifted the water to his lips and swallowed. As he did so he was aware of a sudden splash to his right.
Acastus had caught up, thrown himself flat on the bank, and plunged his head into the pool. He came up, choking on the water he had swallowed, his face dripping. Coughing three times, he rolled onto his back.
“So now we die together, eh?”
“Or live,” said Jason. The water had tasted normal, but what did normal mean? Each beat of his heart seemed to measure out a vast distance of time, like the slow boom of a far-off tide.
One beat.
Two.
Acastus sat up. The boys looked at each other.
Three … four …
“Are we dead yet?” Acastus asked.
Jason squinted about him. “The sun’s too bright and the grass too green for this to be Hades’ realm.” He sighed. “I think … we’re alive.”
“That’s good news,” Acastus declared. All at once he began to chuckle. Then he threw back his head and laughed long and loud.
Jason flopped onto his back and dissolved into laughter as well. It sounded rich, foolish, and wonderful.
Eventually they calmed down and remembered why they were here and how much they still had to do.
Just then, Lynceus and Idas came charging through the bushes. “Dust,” Lynceus gasped. “To the southeast.”
“Great clouds of it,” Idas confirmed. “Could be horses.”
“It’s coming from the direction of the city,” said Acastus. “The centaurs wouldn’t be coming that way.”
“So it must be—” Lynceus began.
“Chariots!” Idas finished for him.
Acastus nodded. “Warriors from Iolcus,” said Acastus. He turned to Jason. “My father’s horses are the swiftest in Thessaly.”
“We still can’t wait around for him,” said Jason. “We have to guard the spring.”
“You’ll need these,” said Idas, tossing their swords at their feet. “I found them lying on the ground. Is there any point asking what’s been going on?”
“We were having a race,” Acastus replied. He snatched up his sword and sheathed it. “Lynceus, go and meet the chariots. Tell them where we are and that they need to hurry.”
“Won’t you need another sword at your side?” Lynceus asked.
“We need reinforcements even more,” said Idas, clapping him on the back. “Go, fetch them.”
Lynceus gave his brother a stern look. “You take care of yourself till I get back,” he warned, wagging his finger at him.
As Lynceus ran off through the trees, Jason retrieved his own sword and the three boys started up the stony slope, working their way around the shoulder of the crag. They peered down through the rocks and beheld an awesome sight.
On the plain below, the centaurs were approaching from the north. They were waving clubs over their heads, whooping and yelling.
Jason jerked back and signaled the others to keep low.
Below them, the centaur host had come to a halt. They formed a broad crescent around Kentauros and let out a ragged cheer. Wedged under Kentauros’ muscular arm Jason could see the red jar containing the Gorgon’s blood.
“There may be hundreds of them,” Acastus said, “but no more than two or three of them at a time can climb up here to the spring. That evens the odds a bit.”
“Maybe long enough for Lynceus to bring up your father’s troops ….” Idas said. But the three looked at one another, all thinking the same thing.
“Only if we can get our hands on that jar,” Jason said at last.
“The important thing is to keep the spring safe,” said Acastus, “even at the cost of our lives.”
Just then they heard Kentauros bellow, “My brothers, now w
e shall have our vengeance. Ages ago we were driven from this land by the hordes of man. Now we shall turn this stolen country into a wasteland. The survivors will become our slaves and our prey! Onward … on to the source of Demeter’s Pool.”
A huge cheer went up. The centaurs drummed their hooves on the ground and chanted, “KEN-TAU-ROS! KEN-TAU-ROS!”
“We need a place for an ambush,” said Idas. “Surprise is the only advantage we’ll have.”
They climbed up the slope, scrambling over rocks to where the spring gushed out of a hole in the crag before splitting into several lesser streams on its way down. They found a stony outcropping where, crouched in the shadows, they waited.
Jason drew his sword and ran his thumb lightly over the edge to assure himself of its sharpness.
“What do you think old Chiron would say if he could see us now?” Idas asked.
“He’d probably say we’d come poorly equipped,” said Acastus, “that we should have planned better.”
“No,” said Jason, “I think he’d be proud, proud of all of us for making it this far together.” He stretched his sword out before him and the others laid their blades on top of it.
“We are bound together now,” said Jason, “sworn comrades in the battle to come.”
“Comrades,” said Idas, voice harsh.
“Comrades,” said Acastus, his face suddenly serene.
Now there were hoofbeats approaching from below. Jason peeked around the rock and saw Kentauros coming up the slope with Nessus right behind him. Kentauros looked bigger than ever, his skin even paler in the sunlight than in the cave. It was pulled so tight, his bones were visible beneath it, as if he were still partly dead.
Kentauros paused and turned to face his followers, who had spread out below, surrounding the pool. He raised the jar of Gorgon’s blood above his head, and a cheer went up that chilled Jason to the bone.
“Idas, can you distract Nessus?” he asked.
Idas grinned. “I’ll try to do more than that.”
“Acastus, you and I will tackle Kentauros.”
“You go after the jar,” said Acastus. “I’ll try to kill Kentauros. Let’s pray one of us succeeds.”
Meanwhile, Kentauros had trotted up to the spring, pausing there as if to savor his moment of cruel satisfaction. His grin was a skeleton’s. He was about to pull the stopper from the jar when the three boys jumped from their hiding place and came skidding down the rocky slope, yelling a war cry.
CHAPTER 27
BLOOD AND WATER
ACASTUS CHARGED THE HUGE centaur with his sword, screaming curses as he ran. At the same time, Jason leaped off the slope, landing on Kentauros’ horse back. But he had overshot his mark and began to slip off the other side. Frantically he hooked his left arm around the centaur’s waist, where the two parts of the body joined together.
From the corner of his eye Jason saw Idas ducking—barely in time to keep Nessus’ club from smashing his skull like an eggshell. As Idas pressed forward, he cut a gash in the centaur’s foreleg.
Just then Kentauros reared up, pounding his hooves at Acastus like a pair of hammers. Jason felt himself falling off, and he made a desperate grab for the centaur’s shaggy mane. Twisting his fingers in the thick, tangled hair, he hung on as Kentauros bucked and kicked.
Jason tried to make a clean thrust at the centaur with his sword, but his blade slid over Kentauros’ shoulder, only scoring a deep groove in the white flesh. To his amazement, not a single drop of blood sprang from the wound.
“No more of your fleabites!” Kentauros snarled, and reached back, clamping bony fingers around Jason’s throat and hoisting him up. Trained in wrestling, Jason knew that if he tried to resist his opponent’s strength, his neck might snap. He went slack, and Kentauros flung him to the ground, where he rolled with the impact until he slammed against a tree. His sword, shaken loose from his fingers, went clattering down the rocks to land with a splash in the pool far below.
Meanwhile, bruised and bloodied, Acastus had bravely renewed his attack. He lunged at the giant centaur and was able to bury his sword up to the hilt in the pale flesh of Kentauros’ belly. Bellowing his rage, Kentauros swatted the boy aside like a fly.
Acastus fell into the shallow stream and lay there, stunned.
“I didn’t return from the dead to die again so soon!” Kentauros roared. He gripped the sword hilt in one hand and pulled the blade from his body as easily as he would have plucked out a troublesome splinter. Again there was no blood, just a glaring purple bruise around the ugly wound.
Jason realized that Kentauros had been dead for so long, the Gorgon’s blood could not restore him to true life, only to a semblance of it. Though Kentauros moved and spoke, he was no more a living creature than an effigy formed of wax and straw.
Then how can he be killed? Jason thought.
Sure of his triumph, Kentauros tore the stopper from the clay jar. “Do you see, Lapithes?” he cried, taunting his long-dead enemy in his booming voice. “Can you see me from your place in the Land of the Dead? I bring misery and doom to your descendants! I will have my vengeance at last!”
He was poised to pour the Gorgon’s blood into the water, right over the spot where Acastus lay. Acastus turned, groaned, and tried to rise, but it was too late. Jason knew the prince could not get up in time.
Putting a hand on his own sword belt, Jason suddenly felt—Lynceus’ sling! That might give him a chance—the smallest chance imaginable, but it was all he had. Quickly he snatched the sling up, found a stone in the leather pouch, and fitted it into place. There was time for only one shot.
Kentauros had already raised the deadly jar high above his head. In another instant he would pour the blood into the water where Acastus lay, bringing death to the land of Iolcus.
Jason fixed his eyes on his target and whirled the sling so hard, he felt his wrist might snap.
“If any gods are watching over us, may they guide my hand now,” he prayed.
He released the stone, and it shot through the air, striking the jar like the blow of a chisel. The jar shattered, and the Gorgon’s blood burst forth, drenching Kentauros, soaking into his ghastly flesh as though he were an immense sponge. In an instant, the giant centaur’s bones ignited like dry kindling, making a bonfire that consumed him in seconds. With a boom as loud as a thunderclap, he exploded in a blast of flame that shot straight up into the heavens.
For an instant the whole landscape was bathed in a crimson glow, as if drenched in blood. Then it faded, and all that was left of the monstrous centaur was a scattering of white ash blowing about on the breeze.
Nessus stumbled back in shock, and below, a groan of horror and despair rose up from the rest of the centaurs.
Then there came a very different sound, a defiant battle cry from hundreds of human throats. Jason looked down and saw that King Pelias had arrived with his army.
A line of chariots, spread out in attack formation, was already sweeping around the shore of the pool toward the centaurs. Arrows and javelins flew through the air. Then the armored warriors, in perfect synchronization, dismounted and advanced on foot with their long spears and towerlike shields held before them.
After seeing their leader annihilated as if by the wrath of the gods, the centaurs had no heart left for fighting. They turned like a herd of frightened horses, galloping off to the north. Nessus managed to scramble down the slope in time to join his brothers in their desperate and unruly retreat.
Idas helped Acastus to his feet, and the two of them gave a cheer. Jason wanted to cry out, too, but his ribs were too sore.
The charioteers pursued the centaurs for a short while, killing a few and wounding many more. But soon the centaurs outran them, disappearing in the direction of their northern homeland.
At a blast from a great bronze trumpet, the king’s troops were recalled.
By the time the boys had come down from the rocks, the chariots had been drawn into a rough circle. In the center stood King Pelias
, acknowledging the cheers of his men with an upraised hand.
Lynceus, who’d been riding beside Pelias, ran to meet his friends, bombarding them with questions about the giant centaur, the jar of Gorgon’s blood, and whether any of the blood had gotten into the water.
“Gone, all gone,” was Jason’s answer. He knew it was the truth.
Alcestis and Admetus came running from one of the other chariots. The friends greeted one another eagerly.
Suddenly Pelias himself was looming over them, two guards standing on either side. Slowly he removed his golden helmet to reveal a tanned, battle-scarred face that was as hard and unyielding as his gilded armor. On his cheek was a purple mark, just as Jason had seen in the vision Hera had sent him. There was no mistaking the man.
Pelias’ gray eyes seemed to bore right through the boys. “We were just in time to see that beacon you lit,” he said. “You looked to be severely outnumbered.”
“That was no bonfire, Father,” Acastus said. “That was Kentauros, the leader of the centaurs. The poisoned blood he planned to pour into the spring destroyed him instead.”
Jason looked from father to son, and he could see the resemblance clearly, though it was less than it would have been a week ago. Acastus no longer carried himself with arrogance, nor did he speak as if his every word were a royal decree. Jason doubted King Pelias would have risked his own life drinking from the pool as his son had done. He would have ordered one of his men to do it in his place. Of that Jason was sure.
Acastus gave his father a brief account of their journey from Lake Boebis, carefully leaving out any mention of Jason.
“I’ve already met Admetus and Lynceus,” said the king, “and now you have told me of this brave warrior Idas, but who is this other youth?”
He fixed his hawklike gaze on Jason.
Jason knew that if King Pelias spotted a resemblance between himself and his father, Aeson, it could be the end of both of them. He bowed his head, like a servant humbled in the presence of his lord.
“He’s an orphan,” Acastus replied quickly, “a servant of Chiron. He acted as our guide. That’s all.”
Jason and the Gorgon's Blood Page 16
