Jason and the Gorgon's Blood

CHAPTER 17

MOUNT OSSA

IT WAS SHARP-EYED Lynceus who led the way. The valley was covered in a shroud of gray, while above them the peak of Mount Ossa stood black against the dull sky. They’d managed to snatch only a few hours of sleep under cover of darkness, knowing that the centaurs would be sleeping as well. But Jason had gotten them moving again well before first light.

Slowly the first red of dawn smeared the horizon. Cold, hungry, tired, they marched on.

“If the centaurs are anywhere, it’s here on Mount Ossa,” Jason told them. “That’s what Chiron said. It’s the centaurs’ ancient meeting place in times of war. And my guess is that with those jars in their possession, war is what is on their minds.”

“I agree,” Acastus said. “Finding them quickly has to be our first priority.”

“I don’t understand why,” Alcestis said. “You’re far too few to tackle those brutes. Besides, you’re just boys. Not men. Not heroes. We should go back to Iolcus and warn Father.”

“Not men? We were men enough to get across the mountain and fight off harpies.” The look Acastus gave her could have uncurled a pig’s tail. “Besides, without chariots, the journey to Iolcus would take days. And we don’t have the time.”

“Sometimes,” Admetus added, “a boy can do what a man cannot.”

“Name one thing!” Alcestis put her hands on her hips.

“Quiet!” Jason warned them. “We’re on the slopes of Mount Ossa now. The centaurs may have posted lookouts.”

Alcestis glanced about. She whispered, “It shouldn’t be hard to spot a centaur. They’re hardly inconspicuous.”

Just then Lynceus made a hissing sound and waved them all into cover. They dropped to their knees and went silent. From the shelter of an acacia bush, they could look far up the slope where a cave mouth gaped open. In front of it stood two centaurs, huge, knobby clubs resting on their shoulders. One of them was yawning.

“There are only two centaurs,” Acastus said. “And five of us. Good odds.”

“Six,” hissed Alcestis.

“No, princess. Leave the fighting to us,” Admetus said.

She glared at him, but he stood his ground and did not look away.

“Good odds,” Jason told them, “if we can beat them without alerting any of the others. From what Princess Alcestis told us, there must be at least a hundred centaurs gathered here. So far the only advantage we have is that they don’t know we’re here.”

“So what do you suggest?” Idas asked. “That we wait here and ambush them when they come out?”

Jason racked his brains. And then he said, “Suppose … suppose there’s another way in.”

Acastus gave a short, sharp laugh. “If wishful thinking is all you have to offer, why not just suppose we have the jars in our hands already.”

“A back door of some kind is not that impossible,” Jason said, though the more he talked of it, the less sure he was.

“This mountain is probably riddled with cracks and holes,” Lynceus said. “One of them could possibly lead into the centaur’s cave. But it would take a miracle for us to find it before nightfall.”

Alcestis held up her hand. “Then we’ll just have to pray for a miracle. Surely the gods, who have taken so much from us already, will grant us one.” She said it matter-of-factly, ignoring her brother, who was scornfully shaking his head. Then she clasped her hands and began. “O great Hera, do not desert your children when we need thee most.”

All at once Jason was aware of the peacock feather under his tunic. It was growing so hot, he could feel it stinging his flesh. Pulling it out, he held it before him, pinched between his thumb and forefinger. The purple and turquoise colors were aglow.

“Here,” he cried, “is our miracle. The answer to Alcestis’ prayer.”

“A feather?” Acastus sneered. “What can we do with that?”

Alcestis clapped her hands. “Remember, brother, the peacock is sacred to Hera.” She turned to Jason. “Where did you find it?”

“Up on the mountains when we were caught in the storm,” Jason replied. “I think the goddess must have left it for me.”

Acastus smacked Jason’s hand, and the peacock feather went flying. A sudden wind set it dancing up the mountainside, away from the cave mouth and the centaur guards. Unaccountably, it hovered in the air, as if waiting for them to follow.

The boys looked stunned. Only Alcestis smiled. Hands on hips, she chided them. “So here we have a group of tired, hungry boys with hardly a decent weapon among them. They know an attack right into the centaurs’ cave will never succeed. Perhaps a back way in isn’t such a silly idea after all. And maybe—if this feather really is from Hera—we should regard it. After all, what chance do we have of victory if we don’t accept the help of the gods?” It was a long speech, and she’d had to take a big gulp of air in the middle of it.

Admetus leaned toward her. “That makes more sense than anything I’ve heard since we left Chiron’s cave. I say we follow the feather.”

“And I!” Lynceus whispered.

“And I!” his brother said.

“And I!” Alcestis added.

Only Jason and Acastus were silent, glaring at each other.

Suddenly Jason broke off eye contact and moved forward, keeping low behind more acacia bushes, until he’d caught up with the feather.

The others trailed behind him, all but Acastus. When they’d almost lost sight of him, he suddenly made a dash to catch up.

“What a band of idiots!” he hissed.

“Why did you follow, then?” his sister asked.

“Because I can’t fight a hundred centaurs on my own.”

Up the mountain they clambered, over rocks and through jagged bushes, the feather bobbing ahead of them.

And then Jason saw something. At first he thought it was merely a shadow cast on the mountainside or a dark wet spot on the granite face. But when they got a bit closer, he realized it was a narrow cleft in the rock.

“Lynceus, look!” he cried.

Lynceus had already spotted it. “It might just be a niche, going nowhere.” But he began to run ahead of Jason.

“Praise the gods!” Alcestis exclaimed triumphantly. “Praise all the gods of Olympus—and especially Hera!”

Jason did not tell her that it was Hera who had wanted her brother and father killed.

They scrambled up to the dark cleft, and Lynceus found a stick, which he pushed into the cleft as far as it would go. It seemed to penetrate straight into the mountain.

Jason looked around for the feather, but it had vanished, seemingly into thin air.

“What do you think, Jason?” Admetus whispered. “Is the opening large enough for us?”

“Maybe.”

“Maybe not for Idas.” Lynceus elbowed his big brother.

“More importantly—will it get us to the centaurs?” Now Acastus started to take charge.

“There’s only one way to find out,” Jason answered.

“I wish we had a torch.” Lynceus looked around, but they were above the tree line and none of them wanted to go back to look for branches. “Even I can’t see in the dark.”

“We’ll just have to make our way as best we can,” Acastus muttered.

“So, do you believe now, brother?” Alcestis crowed.

“I’ll believe when I see farther into that cleft.”

Jason turned sideways and slipped between the rocks, into a fairly wide tunnel. “It’s all right,” he called back. “We can all fit but—”

Before he finished speaking, Acastus had pressed in behind him, going from morning light to dark in an instant.

“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.